“Oh, children, do keep off!  You must let Susette hear!” cried Lottie, and then she read this.  But first let me say that this wonderful letter, having been put away with other more important old papers, has become very worn and yellow, and you must forgive me if I leave out a piece here and there, where it is too torn to read.

“’My dear Lottie and all the Chicks,—­Your letter came very safely all by itself the other day, just as well as if it had been in grandmamma’s as usual; and papa knew what an eager little woman his Lottie was, and so he made his discoveries as soon as possible, and here they are!  Poor Susette, I don’t wonder she was anxious to know all about her poor father, and the rest of them.  They have had a hard time of it since she left them, but they are all so fond of her, and so glad to get news of her.  Such a good girl as she is to them all!  Mind, children, you make much of her, and don’t add to all she has to worry about.”

[Illustration:  SUSETTE’S SISTER.]

At this point we all looked at Susette, and little Murray squeezed her hand.  Her black eyes were overflowing, and her rosy lips were pressed tightly together; yet she was looking very happy and pleased.

Then Lottie went on:—­

“‘Heinrich and I set off at once to ——­’ (reader, I cannot read the name of the village!), ’but some time before we got there we met a pretty Swiss girl, with a bundle of corn on her head, whose eyes and mouth reminded me very much of your kind nurse.  So I put my hand on Heinrich’s shoulder to stop him, and then I asked her if her name was Laurec, and she said, “Yes.”  So we had a long talk, and she told me all about them at home, and of the fever in the village, and the want of work, and all the rest.  I fancy it has been little short of starvation for them all this long time.  Then I let her hurry on to tell them at home who was coming.  Such a sweet hill-side village as I cannot hope to make my little English birds understand, with its pretty chalets lying against the rock, and the bushy trees shooting out of the cliff above and around them.  I went up to the one pointed out to me, and there, lying on a heap of rags, was Susette’s little blind sister, that she has often talked to you about.  Dear little patient thing! turning her large, dark, sightless eyes towards me with such a bright smile!  As she spoke of “le bon Dieu,” I thought of the pretty French hymns you used to try to learn, and it gave the soft French words a softer sound when they were on such a happy theme.  But we could not stay there; so making our little present to the dear child, we set off up the mountain.  We had not gone far, when, among a flock of goats scattered over the hill, we found a poor old man sitting on a rock, with very downcast look, and little Pierre Laurec, who had come to show us the way, told us it was his father.  The poor old man was very much out of heart, and it was some time before we could make him understand that we wanted to help him.  At Susette’s name he looked mournfully in my face as I sat down by him, murmuring that she was gone, gone, bonne fille!