"My dear," said Mr. Ellison to his wife, as they sat at their pleasant tea-table, "I heard of a nurse for you to-day. Are you suited yet?"
"No. Where did you meet with her?"
Mr. Ellison related the circumstances, and continued: "There was something in the girl's face that particularly interested me. The fact is, I believe she looks like you."
Mrs. Ellison smiled. "It was probably nothing but your kind heart, which allows itself to be interested in a case of suffering where another would be unconcerned. But seriously, husband, if I should take so young a nurse, I fear, instead of relieving me, she would add to my perplexities."
"Well, what say you, Aunt Hannah?" asked Mr. Ellison of a prim, but mild-looking old lady in the quaint Quaker dress, who had been listening to the conversation.
"What do I say? Why, that in this matter thee has erred more than is thy wont. Thee knows that a girl taken from the streets of this wicked city is not a fit companion for thy innocent little Kate, who, though only six years old, is an apt scholar. I wonder at thee, John, for thinking of it;" and Aunt Hannah replaced her spectacles, and looked gravely at her nephew.
"But, Aunt," answered Mr. Ellison, warmly, "this, I am sure, is no common street vagrant; besides, we have not decided the matter; Mary will go with me to see her in the morning, and if she is not satisfied, there is an end of it."
"Well, well, nephew, thee knows my mind, and thee can do as thee pleases."
Though wearied by her walk, Norah burst joyfully into the humble room she called home. "I saw a kind looking gentleman that wants a nurse, and he promised to come and see me in the morning. Now I shall earn money, and buy all you need, and you shall have a doctor, for you are growing pale and thin."