"No, I am not miserable at all," said Phil, between his tears; "that is, I have had pain enough, but I have had such a lovely visitor!—Joe brought her—and I wanted to make a little picture of her, so that you could see what she looked like; and I can not. Oh dear! I wish I could ever do anything!"
"Ah, you are tired; drink this nice milk, and you will be better."
"I have had delicious things to eat, and I saved some for you, Lisa. Look;" and he showed her the little parcel of cakes Miss Schuyler had left. "And see the big piece of ice in my glass."
"Some one has been kind to my boy."
"Yes; and here is a note for you; and you must dress up, Lisa, when you go to see our new friend."
Lisa looked down at her shabby garments; they were all she had, but she did not tell Phil that her only black silk had been sold long ago. She read the note, and her face brightened. There seemed a chance of better things for Phil.
"I will go to-night, if you can spare me."
"Not till you have rested, Lisa; and you must drink all that milk your own self. Did you ever hear of Miss Schuyler?"
"I don't know," said Lisa, meditating; "the name is not strange to me. But there used to be so many visitors at your father's house, Phil dear, that I can not be sure."
"She is so nice and tender and kind— Have you had a tiresome day, Lisa?" added Phil, quickly, fearing Lisa might think herself neglected in his eager praise of the new friend.