"My dear Ethel,—For some time I have had my eye upon you. I see in you a brave little girl struggling under burdens too heavy to be borne; your little sister is scarcely less brave and sweet in the care she gives her sick mother. She wins my love also. Children, will you come and live with me for a while? I will send your mother to a private room in the hospital, where she shall have everything to make her better. God grant she may recover! Meanwhile, and for as long thereafter as you and mamma are willing, you shall stay with me and be my little girls. When mamma is well, why, we have a house big enough for her too. My coachman will place at your door, during the night, your Thanksgiving dinner. I hope it will taste good. I will call in the course of to-morrow afternoon, and learn if you are coming to me. Remember, children, I need you. My heart is a mother's although I am an old maid, supposed not to have any heart. Will you come to
"Your loving friend,
"Phebe Wilson.
"P.S.—I have spoken to madame, and Elise is not to return to her work there. She may call the morning after Thanksgiving and receive what wages are owing her."
Elise. How wonderful! It is all like a fairy story!
Ethel. It is a fairy story. I did not know who was going to take us, though. Elgin did not mention her name. But I wonder I did not think of Miss Wilson. She is rich and lonely, and has a warm heart. Those were Elgin's conditions, and he found her.
Elise. Elgin?
Ethel. That's the dream again. Come, Elise, let us see if our dear mother is awake. I am nearly bursting with this good news. And I must tell you my dream. For, you see, the letter and the basket just agree with the dream. And after I have told my dream, and we have read the letter, and seen our Thanksgiving dinner, why, if you and mamma don't believe in fairies, you're funny people, that is all. (Kisses her hand to the air.) I believe in you two dear fairies, at all events.
Exeunt.