putting her aside, she opened the door of the
sick girl's room.

As she did so, she uttered an exclamation of surprise. Louise, in a
flannel dressing-gown, was standing at the high tiled stove behind the
door. Both her arms were upraised and held to it, and she leant her
forehead against the tiles.

"Good Heavens, what are you doing out of bed?" cried Madeleine; and, as
she looked round the room: "And where is Sister Martha?"

Louise moved her head, so that another spot of forehead came in contact
with the tiles, and looked up at Madeleine from under her heavy lids,
without replying.

Madeleine laid one by one on the table some small purchases she had
made on the way there.

"Well, are you not going to speak to me to-day?" she said in a pleasant
voice, as she unbuttoned her jacket. "Or tell me what I ask about the
Sister?" There was not a shade of umbrage in her tone.

Louise moved her head again, and looked away from Madeleine to the wall
of the room. "I have got up," she answered, in such a low voice that
Madeleine had to pause in what she was doing, to hear her; "because I
could not bear to lie in bed any longer. And I've sent the Sister
away--because ... oh, because I couldn't endure having her about me."

"You have sent Sister Martha away?" echoed Madeleine. "On your own
responsibility? Louise!--how absurd! Well, I suppose I must put on my
hat again and fetch her back. How can you get on alone, I should like
to know? Really, I have no time to come oftener than I do."

"I'm quite well now. I don't need anyone."

"Come, get back into bed, like a good girl, and I will make you some
tea," said Madeleine, in the gently superior tone that one uses to a
sick person, to a young child, to anyone with whom it is not fitting to
dispute.

Instead, Louise left the stove, and sat down in a low American
rocking-chair, where she crouched despondently.

"I wish I had died," she said in a toneless voice.

Madeleine smiled with exaggerated cheerfulness, and rattled the
tea-cups. "Nonsense! You mustn't talk about dying--now that you are
nearly well again. Besides, you know, such things are easily said. One
doesn't mean them."

"I wish I had died. Why didn't you let me die?" repeated Louise in the
same apathetic way.

Madeleine did not reply; she was cogitating whether it would be more
convenient to go after the nurse at once, and what she ought to do if
she could not get her to come back. For Louise would certainly