drink, after
which for a time she didn't care if she did die; in fact, she rather
hoped she would; and then the disgusting things happened and she felt
worse and worse and then--oh wonder!--she began to feel better.
Actually, it was sheer bliss just to lie quiet and feel how
comfortable she was.

"I am so sorry!" she murmured apologetically to a presence beside the
bed. "I have made you a horrid lot of trouble."

"Not a bit," said the presence, quietly. "So don't you begin worrying
about that."

And she didn't worry. It seemed impossible to worry about anything
just then.

"I feel lots better," she remarked, after a while.

"That's right. I thought you would. Now I'm going to telephone your
Aunt Jessica that you feel better, and you just lie quiet and go to
sleep. Then you will feel better still. I'll put the bell right here
beside the bed. If you want anything, tap it."

The presence waddled away--the girl could feel its going in the tremor
of the bed beneath her--and Elliott out of half-shut eyes looked into
the room. The shades were partially drawn and the light was dim. A
little breeze fluttered the white scrim curtain. The girl's lazy gaze
traveled slowly over what she could see without moving her head. To
move her head would have been too much trouble. What she saw was
spotless and clean and countrified, the kind of room she would have
scorned this morning; now she thought it the most peaceful place in
the world. But she didn't intend to go to sleep in it. She meant
merely to lie wrapped in that delicious mantle of well-being and
continue to feel how utterly content she was. It seemed a pity to go
to sleep and lose consciousness of a thing like that.

But the first thing she knew she was waking up and the room was quite
dark and she felt comfortable, but just the least bit queer. It
couldn't be that she was hungry!

She lay and debated the point drowsily until a streak of light fell
across the bed. The light came from a kerosene lamp in the hands of an
immense woman whose mild blue eyes beamed on Elliott.

"There, you've waked up, haven't you? I guess you'll like a glass of
milk now. You can bring it right up, Harriet. She's awake."

The woman set down her lamp on a little table and lumbered about the
room, adjusting the shades at the windows, while the lamp threw
grotesque exaggerations on the wall. Elliott watched the shadows, a
warm little smile at her heart. They were funny, but she found herself