ith more anxiety for the future
prima donna than she had felt even for her friend.

Constance Fellows was still in charge and tremendously relieved at her
appearance. "She's keen enough now," she replied to Patricia's eager
questions. "She won't hear to a nurse, and the doctor doesn't insist. I
fancy he knows her better than we do. I'd stay longer, but there's
something I have on hand--but I'll be back later if you want me."

Patricia thought she could manage the rest of the day very well, and as
soon as the medicines were explained and the diet understood, Constance
hurried off.

Rosamond was looking much better when Patricia went to her, and she
improved so rapidly that her objection to the nurse was justified.
Patricia found her an easy patient, though to her inexperience the hours
for medicine came swiftly and the nourishment seemed to be always
waiting to be administered. By the time night came she was completely
exhausted, but she bore up gallantly, love of her gifted friend giving
her strength and courage in the long hours before the happy moment when
she felt safe in going to bed.

She wakened a great many times in her short night, to sit up and listen
or to steal to the door of Rosamond's room and noiselessly peep in to
see how she fared; but Rosamond was sleeping heavily each time she
listened, and after the dawn came she gave herself up to the deep
fatigue which overpowered her.

The sun was shining into her room when she awoke to hear someone
knocking on the outer door. It was Constance on her way up from
breakfast, bringing some flowers from Tancredi and the mail.

Flowers from Tancredi! Patricia thought that must rouse any pupil of
her's, even from the dead!

But no, the gifted Rosamond lifted them to her face as indifferently as
if they had been common weeds and sighed as she turned her pale face
away from the insistent odor of the jasmine.

"How suggestive to send white ones," she murmured with half a smile, and
Patricia, who had been half-way to the skies at this condescension on
the part of Tancredi, became aware that she was making a mountain out of
a very mediocre mole-hill.

She took the flowers and laid them in the box while she could fill a
vase with water, and when she lifted them again she saw an envelope
cuddling under the green paper. It was addressed in Tancredi's hand, and
she looked at it reverently despite herself.

Rosamond waved her to read it and she had the fun, at any rate