"We must have the things he likes best," she said; "for it will be hard enough to make him eat anything.

I will make that apple-pudding that he likes so much; and there is the fowl for the pie, you know, Nurse Lucy." The little maid was away on a vacation, so there was plenty of work to be done.

Dinner-time came and went; and it was not till she had seen Dame Hartley safe established on her bed (for tears and trouble had brought on a sick headache), and tucked her up under the red quilt, with a bottle of hot water at her and a bowl of cracked ice by her side,--it was not till she had done this, and sung one or two of the soothing songs that the good woman loved, that Hilda had a moment to herself.

She ran out to say a parting word to the farmer, who was just starting for the village in the forlorn hope, which in his heart he knew to be vain, of getting an extension of time from Lawyer Clinch while search was being made for the wretched Simon.
When old Nancy had trotted away down the lane, Hilda went back and sat down in the porch, very tired and sad at heart.

It seemed so hard, so hard that she could do nothing to save her friends from the threatening ruin.