he wrote, himself.
Mother wasn't to come, he said, but she's going."

"Of course." Nervous fear clutched Elliott's throat, like an icy hand.
Oh, poor Aunt Jessica! Poor Laura!

"Where are they?" she asked.

"In Mumsie's room," said Priscilla. "We're all helping."

Elliott mounted the stairs. She had to force her feet along, for they
wished, more than anything else, to run away. What should she say? She
tried to think of words. As it turned out, she didn't have to say
anything.

Laura was the only person in Aunt Jessica's room when they reached it.
She sat in a low chair by a window, mending a gray blouse.

"Elliott's come to help, too," announced Priscilla.

"That's good," said Laura. "You can put a fresh collar and cuffs in
this gray waist of Mother's, Elliott--I'll have it done in a
minute--while I go set the crab-apple jelly to drip. And perhaps you
can mend this little tear in her skirt. Then I'll press the suit.
There isn't anything very tremendous to do."

It was all so matter-of-fact and quiet and natural that Elliott didn't
know what to make of it. She managed to gasp, "I hope Sidney isn't
very sick."

"He thinks not," said Laura, "but of course Mother wants to see for
herself. She is telephoning Mrs. Blair now about the Ladies' Aid. They
were to have met here this week. Mother thinks perhaps she can arrange
an exchange of dates, though I tell her if Sid's as he says he is,
they might just as well come."

Elliott, who had been all ready to put her arms around Laura's neck
and kiss and comfort her, felt the least little bit taken aback. It
seemed that no comfort was needed. But it was a relief, too. Laura
_couldn't_ sit there, so cool and calm and natural-looking, sewing and
talking about crab-apple juice and Ladies' Aid, if there were anything
radically wrong.

Then Aunt Jessica came into the room and said that Mrs. Blair would
like the Ladies' Aid, herself, that week; she had been wishing she
could have them; and didn't Elliott feel the need of something to eat
to supplement her scanty dinner?

That put to rout the girl's last fears. She smiled quite naturally and
said without any stricture in her throat: "Honestly, I'm not hungry.
And I am going to put a clean collar in your blouse."

"What should I do without my girls!" smiled Mother Jess.

It was after supper that the telegram came, but even then there was no
panic. These Camerons didn't do any of the things Elliott had once or
twice seen