bit. And I'm sure," continued Matty, in a plaintive voice,
"not the least part of it is being stuck in bed now."

"I wonder you stay," said Sophy. "You're in perfect health."

"No, I'm not. Dr. Morris is very anxious about me."

"He isn't. No one is anxious about you. There isn't a thing the matter,
except that you and ma like that you should pose as the dying martyr.
Well, good-bye. Sophy and I are going to have some fun this evening."

"Fun, where? Do tell me."

"At the Jenkinses. Their brother Gus has come home; you know how you and
Gus used to flirt long ago, Matty. Well, he's back for a fortnight. He
has a long red beard, and his face is all over freckles, but he's full
of fun, and he laughs like anything. We saw him and he asked for you.
It's a pity you can't come."

"Why can't I come? I don't see why I can't come as well as you."

"Oh, well, we thought you were the dying martyr. Mrs. Jenkins asked us
all in to tea, and we are to have tennis afterwards, and then high
supper, in honor of Gus. We said you couldn't come, but that we would be
there. Alice, it's time for us to dress now. We'll wear our muslins with
the pink spots, and those sweet new pink sashes that we got in exchange
for the old teapot from Mrs. Middlemass last week. Come along, Alice.
We'll show ourselves to you when we are dressed, Matty."

The girls skipped lightly away, and Matty fidgeted and tossed in her
small hot bed.

The house was intensely quiet. Mrs. Bell was away, having taken
advantage of a proffered lift from a neighbor to drive into the country
to purchase some plums. Matty thought how intolerably dull her evening
would be. She reflected on the pleasures of the Jenkinses' tea-party;
she thought it would be nice, more than nice, to shake hands again with
Mr. Gus. Why shouldn't she go? What was to prevent her? Only her
mother's whim. Only the doctor's orders. But both doctor and mother were
now far away. She would go, she would defy them both.

Slipping out of bed she flew across the room and drew the bolt of the
door. Then she began to dress in quick and nervous haste. She put on her
daintiest shoes, and open-work stockings. She arranged her limp hair
with care, and finally she donned the gorgeous shot-silk.

The few days in bed had taken away some of her burnt appearance, and
slightly moderated her high color. She looked really almost nice as she
skipped to the door, and showed herself to her astonished sisters.

"I'm comi