For a long time after John left the room Lizzie did not look round at Violet. She could not trust herself to do so. Bitter tears were running quickly down her own cheeks, and she dreaded to see the face of the child, so she sat by the stove and covered her eyes with her hands, grieving, oh, so sorely, that there was yet another farewell to be gone through, and that Violet's small stock of strength and brave little spirit must be tried still further.  
She was surprised, therefore, when about a quarter of an hour after John's departure Violet called to her in a low, quiet voice,—
 
"Aunt Lizzie, is the flower-shop far from here?"
 
"No, my darling; it is only just round the corner."
 
"I mean the stall where Fritz buys the flowers for mother. I forget the name."
 
"I do not know the name either," replied her aunt, rising and brushing the tears off her face; "but[Pg 116] yesterday afternoon, when I was walking from the station, I noticed beautiful flowers for sale in a shop close to this house."
 
"Didst thou see any violets there?"
 
"Yes, plenty of them."
 
There was a short pause, and then Violet said earnestly,—
 
"Aunt Lizzie, wilt thou go to the shop and buy me some violets? It is not far, thou saidst, and I have some money in my new desk."
 
"Of course I will go," said Aunt Lizzie, turning at once to look for her hat. "Never mind the money, darling; they will not cost much."
 
"But I should like to give the money. And please, Aunt Lizzie, buy a large bunch, and very sweet. Sometimes Fritz buys violets that have no smell, and I do not care for them."
 
"All right; Aunt Lizzie will choose the very sweetest she can find. And now here is the desk, and while Aunt Lizzie is tying on her hat thou canst take out the money."
 
Violet opened her new possession, and with trembling, eager fingers, removed the little secret receptacle which held her newly-acquired money and drew out several silver coins.
 
She placed them on the counterpane and waited for her aunt to turn round.
 
[Pg 117]
 
"Aunt Lizzie, wilt thou do one more thing for Violet?"
 
"Certainly, anything. What is it, my little darling?" for the child's face was covered with a crimson blush which darkened in its distress to almost a purple hue. "Darling, what is it?"
 
"The cake, Aunt Lizzie, which father put by last night in the cupboard. May I have it?"
 
"Certainly." Then, seeing her increased confusion, she added thoughtfully, "Aunt Lizzie is too glad that Violet should care to have the cake. It was made for thee, dearest, and madame would be so disappointed if thou didst not eat some of it."
 
Violet did not speak. She lifted her eyes nervously to her aunt's face, and moved her hands restlessly to and fro on the counterpane.
 
"I suppose I had better cut a slice for thee, the dish is so heavy; and now I may give thee some milk, dearest. Thou hast had no breakfast."
 
"Please don't cut the cake, Aunt Lizzie."
 
"Well, here it is. I will put it on the table beside thee; and here is the milk."
 
Violet nodded her head with that silent acquiescence which so often with her took the place of words, and Aunt Lizzie went down the stairs perplexed and wondering. When she reached the little side street[Pg 118] she found the flower-stall literally besieged with women and children purchasing bouquets and bunches of flowers, to give to their dear ones ere they started for the war—beautiful blue forget-me-nots, moss roses, lilies of the valley. It seemed this morning as if the poorest child in the town had a penny to spare for this purpose.
 
Aunt Lizzie could scarcely force her way to the back of the stall, where a basket of sweet purple violets not yet unpacked had caught her eye.
 
"No, no," cried the woman excitedly as Lizzie put down her hand to select a bunch; "these cannot be touched until the others on the counter are sold."
 
"Oh, it is for a little sick child. I promised I would bring her home the sweetest in thy shop; and she will pay thee well, too, poor little girl."
 
"Who is the child?" asked the woman, curiously looking up at the young wife's pleading face, a something in the eyes and the voice stirring up old recollections. "Is it little Violet who has sent thee for them?"
 
"Yes, yes, the same."
 
"Take then what thou wilt, and from where thou wilt. There are even better bunches in the little tub under the table—real sweet violets from the king's garden; but they are not too good for her."
 
[Pg 119]
 
Lizzie knelt down and selected the finest bunch she could find in the tub—deep purple violets with the dew still on them and their stalks bound up with soft green moss.
 
"Thanks a thousand times; these are real beauties," she said gratefully. "How much do I owe thee for them?" and she held out her hand, in the palm of which lay Violet's money.
 
"Nothing," said the woman quickly. "Go, take them to her; she is welcome to them."
 
"But Violet wished to pay; she will be grieved."
 
"Don't let her grieve, then. She has enough pain in her heart for this day, I warrant. If she says anything, tell her that I will call some day myself for my payment; and that will be one look at her sweet little face. There, take a bunch of those blue forget-me-nots beside thee, and don't stop to thank me. My hands are too full this morning for such needless waste of time;" and she turned away quickly to attend to her other customers.
 
Lizzie went back with her hands full of flowers and her eyes full of tears. How this little girl was beloved by all the town!—she a poor, sick, crippled child; and yet she seemed to have cords of love binding her to almost every heart in the town. Aunt Lizzie smiled as she said to herself, "For of such is[Pg 120] the kingdom of heaven;" and a vision full of comfort passed before her eyes of the Lord Jesus standing with outstretched arms waiting patiently to gather this little suffering lamb into his arms.
 
When she reached the house she paused a moment at the door, for she was anxious to give Violet time to eat some of the breakfast which she had left beside her, and, in the nervous state in which she had left her, she felt sure the little girl would not be able to do so if any one were beside her. So, leaning against the entrance door of the house with the flowers and money in her hand, she stood a little aside from the crowd, lost in a sorrowful reverie.
 
It was not until a figure had darkened the doorway for a full minute or so that she looked up and perceived the policeman standing in front of her.
 
"How goes it with the little girl upstairs?" he said, in a dry, matter-of-fact voice.
 
"Pretty well, thank you," she replied, wondering at the interruption.
 
"Does she sleep? can she eat? is she heart-broken?" He spoke abruptly, and Lizzie noticed with surprise that his lip was trembling beneath his thick frizzled mustache.
 
"She is making a brave fight," replied she warmly; "but the worst is to come."
 
[Pg 121]
 
............