careless like me, Cousin Helen; you were born neat."
"Oh, was I?" said her Cousin. "Well, Katy, we won't dispute that point, but I'll tell you a story, if you like, about a girl I once knew, who wasn't born neat."
"Oh, do I" cried Katy, enchanted. Cousin Helen had done her good, already. She looked brighter and less listless than for days.
"This girl was quite young," continued Cousin Helen; "she was strong and active, and liked to run, and climb, and ride, and do all sorts of jolly things. One day something happened—an accident—and they told her that all the rest of her life she had got to lie on her back and suffer pain, and never walk any more, or do any of the things she enjoyed most."
"Just like you and me!" whispered Katy, squeezing Cousin Helen's hand.
"Something like me; but not so much like you, because, you know, we hope you are going to get well one of these days. The girl didn't mind it so much when they first told her, for she was so ill that she felt sure she should die. But
