The doctor was just entering and there was no spare room. She had seen at a glance that Faith could do all that was needed.
A few minutes later Miss Jennings opened her eyes. When she saw Faith bending over her she smiled very happily.
"You are better, dear, aren't you?" whispered Faith, as she tried to return the smile.
Miss Jennings shook her head gently. "I am satisfied," was her low answer.
"But I want you to be happy, Mary," cried Faith, who saw death in the poor girl's face. "Look up, dear; there is One who loves you. Can you not believe it?"
"I trust it is so," said the dying girl, faintly, "I have not believed, but I may have been mistaken."
"You were indeed, Mary, but you were not to blame! Poor child, yours has been a sad lot, but there is happiness coming."
There were stifled sobs from many of the girls who were standing in frightened groups about the room. The hush upon each lip spoke only too plainly of death's presence.
"Poor Dick!" sighed Miss Jennings. "If it were not for Dick—"
Dick was the crippled brother who was her only charge.