"She heard somehow yesterday that she was ill, and told me.

She is very sorry for her, and I think she would be glad to do anything she can." "Thank you, Miss Costello; you will help me, I see," cried Doctor Hardy, delighted.
Mrs.Costello smiled, "You had better leave it in Lucia's hands, doctor," she said.

"But tell me first whether there is anything in particular that we can do?
Is Mrs.Clarkson too ill to see any one ?" "That depends very much upon who it is.

Anybody who could relieve her mind about those unfortunate children of hers would do her good." "Perhaps I may go over then, if we have good news for her." The doctor said good-morning, and went away, tolerably satisfied that his promise to the dying man would be fulfilled without further trouble on his part.
"When women take up a thing of that sort," he meditated, "they seldom do it by halves.

Now I would venture to bet something handsome that all these three, who have cause, if ever women had, to hate the very name of Clarkson, will be just as kind and pitiful to that poor thing as if she were the only sufferer among them.