"What are they doing, now?" she asked herself. "Does Frank really miss me as he said he should? I can't imagine what remark of mine he alludes to."
Alice and Ellen had each of them a room fitted for their use in as tasteful a manner as their father could devise. Aunt Clarissa accompanied the latter to her chamber,—for Ellen found, before the first evening had passed, that her handsome sister loved no extra exertion,—and inquired whether she needed any assistance.
"No, indeed," she answered, laughing. "You are just the same dear, kind Aunt Clarissa you were four years ago. You must teach me to help you, and not wait upon a great healthy girl like me."
Miss Saunders took a seat, unasked, and began to explain how carefully she and her nephew had arranged everything for her niece's comfort.
Then Ellen, after expressing her thanks, and saying, "I hope you'll find I'm not ungrateful," took out her small Bible, the gift of Cousin Mary, and began to read.
"Just see how far Mary and I have read together," she said, warmly. "Let me read aloud to you. Here, please take this easy seat."
And, having arranged everything to her satisfaction, she began the ninety-first Psalm, which she read in a manner which proved that she relied upon its blessed promises.
"Good night," said Miss Saunders, rising, when her voice ceased. "You are a very good reader. I shall ask to come in again."
Ellen jumped up and gave her a fervent kiss, which made the spinster's heart warm all night.
The next morning, the sisters were sitting together in Alice's room, when Aunt Clarissa entered; Ellen was just saying,—