no worse; a little better and brighter, if anything.
But all the same, I want you to stay."

"Well, I don't care if I do a spell. You must be hard up for company to
be so glad to see me."

Miss Betsey sat down by the fire, and took her knitting from her pocket.
There were tears in Elizabeth's eyes which Betsey pretended not to see,
and which Elizabeth did her best to keep back. She went into her
father's room for a minute, and looked cheerful enough as she took her
seat on the other side of the hearth opposite her cousin, with her work
in her hand. But when she began to answer Betsey's questions about her
father--his appetite, his strength, his nights, his days--the tears came
again, and this time they fell over her cheeks. For she found herself
sorrowfully telling that though he had comfortable days, and days when
he seemed just as he used to do, it was evident that his strength was
failing more rapidly than it had ever done during any winter before.
She let her work fall on her lap, and leaning her elbow on the table,
covered her face with her hands.

"He is an old man," said Betsey, gravely.

"Yes. But he is all I have got," said Elizabeth, speaking with
difficulty.

"He is your father, but he is not all you've got. Don't say that."

"There is no one else that cares very much about me. If I were sick or
in trouble, I think I would have a better right to come to you, Cousin
Betsey, than to any one else in the world."

"Well, and why not? You ought to have had a sister," said Betsey.

Elizabeth laughed a little hysterically.

"I have--Jacob's wife," said she.

"Humph," said Betsey. "I'll tell you what's the matter with you; you're
nervous, and no wonder."

"Oh, Cousin Betsey! don't be hard on me. I'll be all right in a minute.
I know I'm foolish, and it is a shame now that you are here not to be
better company."

"You are nervous," repeated Betsey. "And what you want is to feel the
fresh air blowing about you. See here, old Samson is right here in the
shed. You go and put on your things and have a drive. It will do you
all the good in the world."

"And will you come with me?"

"No, I guess not. Then you'd want to hurry right home again, because of
your father. I'll stay with him, and then you won't worry. If he's
pretty well, I want to have a talk with him anyway, and now will be as
good a time as any. So don't you hurry back."

"Well, I won't. But it doesn't seem worth while to g