A Sister of the Red Cross: A Tale of the South African War. L. T. Meade

the girls upstairs talked as fast as a pair of eager tongues could manage. Each had a great deal to say to the other. Mollie and Kitty were orphans. Mollie was six years Kitty's senior. Their parents had died within one week of each other—when Mollie was seventeen years of age, and Kitty eleven. An aunt had left Kitty twenty thousand pounds, which was to accumulate for her until her majority. Mollie, on the contrary, had only fifty pounds a year of her own. Kitty was adopted by Mrs. Keith, who took a fancy to the pretty girl, and afterwards grew so much attached to her that she could scarcely bear her out of her sight. Mollie, at the age of twenty, took up nursing seriously as a profession. From her earliest years Mollie had shown a great aptitude for this noble work. She had that calmness of nature which denotes strength; she was not easily ruffled; and when she made up her mind she stuck to her resolves.

      If there was one person in all the world whom Mollie loved better than another, it was her little sister Kitty. Each girl idolized the other; and although for long years now they had been to a considerable extent separated, their early love was still unchanged. Kitty was almost frantic with delight at the thought of a whole fortnight of her sister's society.

      "Everything must happen in that time," she kept saying to herself—"everything that is possible and delightful. Gavon shall tell me that he loves me. I know he does—I know it; and he will tell me so while darling Mollie is with us. And auntie will consent, of course. And the wedding shall all be arranged, and Mollie shall advise me as to my trousseau, and Mollie shall see my engagement ring. And Mollie shall talk to Gavon and tell him what a naughty, silly, and yet affectionate little girl he has secured as his future wife. Oh, life is too beautiful, too beautiful! Even though I am in debt, horribly in debt for my clothes, and Aunt Louisa knows nothing about it, the joy of life is almost too much for me!"

      Now Kitty poured out a great deal of her heart to Mollie. All her conversation was about Gavon Keith.

      "He has not spoken, but I know he will speak," she kept on reiterating; "and I don't mind telling you, Mollie, for I have always told you just everything."

      As Mollie listened, she could not help feeling just a little anxious. Suppose by any chance Kitty was mistaken! But then she made up her mind to hope for the best.

      "The child would not speak as she does if she were not quite, quite sure. All the same, I wonder she can talk of him as she does until he has told her in so many words that he loves her as she deserves to be loved," was her grave inward comment.

      "You shall see him for yourself to-night," said Kitty, at the end of almost every speech. "You shall tell me to-night what you think of him."

      Just then a little clock on the mantelpiece struck the hour of seven.

      "Who would have supposed it was so late?" said Kitty, starting up suddenly. "Now, Mollie, I will bring in the dress you are to wear. Gavon won't dine, but he is certain to be back about ten o'clock; and even if he keeps us up a little later, it does not matter, does it?"

      "Certainly not, dear. I have had a day of perfect rest, and am good for any amount of sitting up to-night."

      "You always were a darling! Now, I wonder which of my dresses would best become you?"

      "It seems so ridiculous for me to wear anything but this," said Mollie, and she looked at her nurse's uniform with affection.

      "Oh, I love you in your nurse's dress!" said Kitty. "You make me quite wish to be ill, in order that you may put me to bed and pet me, and give me my medicines, and tonics, and nice, tempting invalid food. But as I am not ill—as I am, on the contrary, in the most radiant health and strength—I should for the time being like to see my own Mollie in some other guise than that of a Red Cross nurse."

      "Well, I would do more than that to please you, Kitty."

      "We must be quick, or we shall be late for dinner, and that is just the kind of thing which does disturb Aunt Louisa."

      The next half-hour was spent by both girls in getting into their evening finery. When their toilets were complete, they went and stood with their arms round each other in front of a tall mirror which stood in one corner of the room.

      "I must say, though I say it who should not," said Kitty, with a laugh, "that we look as presentable as any two girls I have ever come across. Why, Mollie, I did not know until now that you were quite an inch taller than I am. But never mind; your dress looks perfectly sweet, and your feet are so pretty it does not matter whether they are seen or not. And oh, Mollie, what a white neck you have, and such round arms! I do think black lace is the very prettiest evening dress of all. But stay; you must have colour. I will run down to the conservatory and bring up some scarlet geraniums."

      Kitty flew away, returning in a few minutes with a bunch of the brilliant flowers. She fastened them into her sister's belt, and stepped back to look at the effect.

      "Now you are perfect!" she said. "You are a young lady enjoying one of her first peeps into society. Oh dear, it is too comical! Here am I, almost sick of going out (for Aunt Louisa takes me somewhere nearly every night); and here are you, with just the airs of an ingénue. And you are five-and-twenty, are you not, Mollie?"

      "Quite old compared with you, Kitty."

      "I shall be twenty in a month," said Kitty, "and then in one year my fortune comes in. Oh dear, what a horrible thing money is!"

      As she spoke a change came over her face—a wistful, puzzled, distressed expression. Mollie noticed it.

      "It is impossible the child can be in money difficulties," she said to herself. "I must speak to her about this later on."

      The dinner gong sounded, and the two ran downstairs. Mrs. Keith was in the drawing-room. She gave Mollie a hearty welcome.

      "You look very well indeed," she said. "How like Kitty you are, and yet how different!"

      This was quite true. Kitty was far and away the prettier sister, and yet no one would look at Kitty when Mollie was present. It was difficult to account for this fact; nevertheless it existed. The very tone of the elder girl's voice was arresting—there was a dignity in everything she said; and yet she never posed, nor had she a trace of affectation in her nature. One secret of her influence may have been that she absolutely, on every possible occasion, forgot herself. Her life was a consecration. To make others happy was the whole aim and object of her existence. When her father and mother died, she had been old enough to feel their deaths intensely. But the greatest sorrow of all had never come into her life; and beautiful and perfect as her character seemed, there were hidden depths yet to be explored, and greater heights to be reached, before Mollie Hepworth would gain the full crown of womanhood. As to love, in the sense in which Kitty loved Gavon Keith, Mollie had never even thought of it. Her feeling, as she sat now at her aunt's luxurious table, was that nothing would induce her to marry.

      "A consecrated life shall ever be mine," was her thought.

      Nevertheless she was quite healthy enough to fully enjoy the present, and she drew Mrs. Keith out to talk of her son, and asked Kitty many fresh questions with regard to her employments and interests.

CHAPTER II.

       MUSIC.

       Table of Contents

      "I wish you would scold Kitty," said Mrs. Keith to Mollie in the course of the evening, "she is so very frivolous."

      "O auntie, what a perfect shame!" said Kitty. "I frivolous! If frivolous means being intensely affectionate, I am that, but I don't think I am frivolous in any other sense of the word."

      "I am not complaining of you, Kitty—you suit me perfectly; but you are just a dear little gay butterfly flitting about from flower to flower, always sipping the sweets and enjoying life to the utmost."

      "Oh,