"Why, Dorothy, what have you got there?"
"A cup of tea for you, mother, and you are to drink it, and to be sure to eat the bread and butter. I saw how little dinner you ate. I was watching you, and you did look so very tired and worn." "But I'm not tired now," said the mother, "not a bit of it. Why," lifting up her face from the teacup, "your loving care has strengthened me already."
"I shall be able to help you a lot after tea," said Dorothy, before returning to her kitchen duties.
As soon as they were over, and she had changed her dress, she peeped into her father's room to see if he was sleeping.
"Dear daddy," said she, stroking his white brow and smoothing the pillow, "you will soon be better now."
"How does my little one know that?"
"Because the doctor generally goes away frowning, but to-day he actually had a smile on his face. Daddy"—with a sudden movement, as though she had just thought of something—"shall I read you something? I have nothing to do before tea."
"Do, my darling."