the fire, if you should want any boiling water. Bridget is sure to be home soon now."

"I wonder why she is so anxious for Bridget to be home," Jenny said to herself when Rose had retired. A few minutes afterwards she heard the back door close gently, and then it suddenly struck her that there was something peculiar in the girl's manner. She laid Tooney down on the sofa and ran to the kitchen. Rose was not there. She opened the door and called, "Rose! Rose !" but no Rose answered her. Then she went upstairs to the servants' room, and found that Rose's bonnet and shawl and some of her other clothes were gone.

The weak, unprincipled girl had taken fright at Tooney's illness and had run away.

For a moment poor Jenny felt dismayed at being deserted in this way; but she comforted herself with the thought that Bridget would most likely be home in an hour or two, and that her father and mother were probably already on their way.

She went back to the parlour and took her little sister on her knee again. Tooney's breathing was very loud now, and her forehead was burning. When Jenny asked her if she would like to go to bed, she only answered by a moan. Jenny carried her upstairs and undressed her, thinking she would be better in bed. But she seemed to grow worse, and Jenny began to be seriously alarmed,

"Oh, I wish mamma was home, or that somebody would come and tell me what I ought to do!" she exclaimed to herself. And then she remembered that her Heavenly Father was always near her, and that He would teach her how she ought to act in this emergency, if she asked Him. So she knelt down and prayed for wisdom and guidance, and committed herself and little sister into the loving care of Him without whom even a sparrow cannot fall to the ground. When she rose from her knees, she was still very anxious; but the frightened feeling was gone, and she was able to think quietly what she had better do. She could not leave Tooney to go for the doctor; and, after all, there might be no need, as she knew that children were sometimes subject to feverish attacks which passed away in a few hours. But when she went close to Tooney to listen to her breathing, she found that there was a red rash upon her skin.

Jenny remembered that when she had scarlet fever herself, there had been hot poultices kept to her throat, and she ran and got some linseed meal, which she mixed with boiling water, and putting it in a thin muslin bag, applied it to Tooney's throat, tying a piece of flannel over it to keep the heat in. To her great thankfulness, Tooney seemed relieved by the application. She opened her eyes and half smiled; but when she saw Jenny standing over her with such an anxious and wobegone expression, she shut

them very speedily and began muttering something that Jenny could not understand, about "nasty corners."

For a long time Jenny was so intent watching Tooney, and listening to every breath she drew, that she was deaf to all other sounds; but when at the end of an hour she went downstairs to make another poultice, she found that the wind had risen, and that thick sleet was driving against the windows. The screaming sea-birds flying inland had truly presaged a storm; and when Jenny heard it she said to herself, with a fresh sense of dismay, "If they did not leave Rabbit Island before it came on, they will not be home to-night."

HAT was the longest night that ever Jenny had spent. The hours dragged on so slowly that they seemed to stand still altogether. Indeed, had it been possible, she would almost have thought that time was going backwards instead of forwards.

Outside, the wind shrieked through the trees, and rain and hail and snow rattled against the windows. Inside, Tooney lay and moaned or muttered in her feverish sleep; and Jenny sat by the fire straining her ears in the vain hope of catching the sound of rumbling wheels above the roaring of the storm.

When, at last, eleven o'clock came without bringing either the car or Bridget, Jenny gave up all hope

of them, and knew she must pass the remainder of the night alone. She knew that the storm would begin much sooner at the sea than inland, and would probably be much more severe, so as to prevent her father and mother starting for home.

The thought of spending the whole night alone with the half-delirious child was very dreadful to her, but she prayed fervently for courage, and kept repeating to herself: "Wait on the Lord: be of good courage, and He shall strengthen thine heart: wait, I say, on the Lord."

And she sang softly under her breath :

"Abide with me: fast falls the eventide,
The darkness deepens: Lord, with me abide!
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me."

The hymn cheered her, and it seemed to soothe Tooney, for she moaned less. Jenny sang it right through, and had begun "Safe in the arms of Jesus," when she was interrupted by hearing the dog whining in the lobby.

For Quiz to come upstairs was a most unheard-of thing; but, supposing that he was frightened by the storm, she rose and let him into the bedroom. As soon, however, as he was inside, he scratched at the door and whined to get out again, looking in Jenny's face as he did so in a way that plainly showed he wanted her to go with him.

"Stay with me, good dog," she whispered, patting