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IT was a sunny morning towards the end of February. The garden was gay with spring bulbs, and Gentian stood looking out of the window upon the bright scene in front of her with wistful lips and sad eyes. Her bright colour had faded, her face was white and rather strained. She seemed to be years older, and yet it was barely two months since Miss Ward had been first taken ill. For those two months Gentian and a nurse had hardly left the invalid's room.
Mrs. Wharnecliffe had been in and out, and wanted Gentian to come and stay with her for a little rest, but she firmly refused to leave the house even for one evening, and every one was surprised to see the merry, volatile girl, turn into the thoughtful, patient nurse. Gentian made many mistakes at first, and was rather rebellious and impatient when she found her earnest prayers for her dear Waddy were not going to be answered in the way she wished.