Mrs. Brown, the sewing-woman, was out, and no one there but Lizzie in her chair at the window, looking lonely and forlorn.
'How do you do? My name is Patty, and I live over there, and I've come to play with you,' said one child in a friendly tone.
'How do you do? My name is Lizzie, and I'm very glad to see you. What a lovely doll!' returned the other child gratefully; and then the ceremony of introduction was over, and they began to play as if they had known each other for ever so long.
To poor Lizzie it seemed as if a little fairy had suddenly appeared to brighten the dismal room with flowers and smiles and pretty things; while Patty felt her pity and good-will increase as she saw Lizzie's crippled feet, and watched her thin face brighten and glow with interest and delight over book and doll and posy. 'It felt good,' as Patty said afterwards; 'sort of warm and comfortable in my heart, and I liked it ever so much.' She stayed an hour, making sunshine in a shady place, and then ran home, wondering if Aunt Pen would find that out.
She found her sitting with her hands before her, and such a sad look in her face that Patty ran to her, saying anxiously—
'What's the matter, aunty? Are you sick?'
'No dear; but I have sorrowful news for you. Come, sit in my lap and let me tell you as gently as I can.'
'Mamma is dead!' Cried Patty with a look of terror in her rosy face.
'No, thank God! but the dear, new baby only stayed a week, and we shall never see her in this world.'
With a cry of sorrow Patty threw herself into the arms outstretched to her, and on Aunt Pen's loving bosom sobbed away the first bitterness of her grief and disappointment.