The gates ajar. By Elizabeth Stuart Phelps.

The Gates Ajar. 229
"Mamma, mamma! see what I've got for
you, mamma!"
Auntie tried to step from the carriage, and
called me: " Mary, can you help me a little?
I am tired."
I went to her, and she leaned heavily on my
arm, and we came up the path.
"Such a pretty little chain, all for you,
mamma," began Faith, and stopped, struck by
her mother's look.
" It has been a long ride, and I am in pain.
I believe I will lie right down on the parlor
sofa. Mary, would you be kind enough to
give Faith her supper and put her to bed?"
Faith's lip grieved.
"Cousin Mary is n't you, mamma. I want
to be kissed. You have n't kissed me."
Her mother hesitated for a moment; then
kissed her once, twice; put both arms about
her neck; and turned her face to the wall
without a word.
"Mamma is tired, dear," I said; "come
away."
She was lying quite still when I had done
what was to be done for the child, and had
come back. The room was nearly dark. I
sat down on my cricket by her sofa.