She was glad to see that the pale face on the pillow did not look so deathly now, and the blue shadows had nearly disappeared. She even smiled with some brightness, and her grateful eyes followed Sara about the room. A breeze had arisen, and was blowing refreshingly through the window, and the latter gladly seated herself where she could catch it all.
"You look better," she remarked, as she returned the sick girl's smile; "tell me, Bertha, was it from hunger that you fainted? I am your friend and want to help you."
"Yes, it was. I haven't eaten since—what day is this?"
"Saturday; it is now about five o'clock."
"Then it was yesterday morning. I had a piece of bread about as large as my palm."
"And nothing since?"
"Not a crumb."
Sara shuddered.
"Poor, poor girl! How did you come to such want?" tears of pity filling her sweet eyes.
Bertha gazed at her wonderingly.