"Don't look so very unhappy, dear Dora," replied Amy, "I cannot bear to see it; you always seem out of spirits now, and I would give anything in the world if I could help you."
"Would you?" said Dora, looking at her earnestly; "that is more than half the people I know would say."
"But it is true; only, of course, I cannot be any good to you."
"No one can be any good to me now; I knew I should be wretched when
Christmas came."
"But why?" asked Amy.
"Oh! never mind," said Dora, rather hastily, "I cannot talk about it; please don't say anything to anybody."
"But if you would talk to some one else, would not that help you?"
"Whom should I talk to?" said Dora.
"Do you never tell your mamma when you are unhappy?" continued Amy, though she felt that to have asked for sympathy from Mrs Harrington in her own case would have been impossible.
"Talk to mamma!" exclaimed Dora; "why, I could more easily be miserable all the days of my life; besides," she added, "I said no one could help me; no one can bring back——," the sentence remained unfinished, for her voice was choked, and her eyes were blinded with tears.