y you won't ever be able
to walk again!"

"Who says that?" asked Phebe, laughing. "I shall be a terrible
disappointment to them."

"'Tain't her legs at all; it's her shoulders," said Olly, as he emerged
from his corner, chewing Europe into a pasteboard bull. "What have you
got in that paper?"

"Oh, the blessed child, and I was forgetting it. My dear, it's just a
little sponge-cake I made free to bring you, it turned out so light.
Don't you think you could eat a bit perhaps?"

"My, but it looks good!" said Olly, approaching a hungry finger and
poking at it softly. "I'll get a knife."

"I hope you don't allow any such trash as that about, Miss Vernor," said
Mrs. Upjohn, sharply, in the middle of her discussion of Jane's demerits.
"Phebe ought to be exceedingly careful what she eats for a great while
to come. It's doubtful, indeed, whether her stomach ever recovers its
tone after such a shock. I knew one woman who died just of the shock
alone some two months after precisely such an accident as this, when
everybody thought she had got well, and Phebe must be _very_ careful. Her
appetite is not to be tempted, but guided."

"Well, ladies, I must be going," announced Mrs. Hardcastle, rising. "You
really think I am safe, then, in engaging her, Mrs. Upjohn?" But just
then Mrs. Dexter came in with two of her daughters, and Mrs. Hardcastle
sat down again.

"There was no one downstairs, and as the doctor says Phebe is so much
better, we thought we might just come up," said the new comer. "Why,
Phebe, you are as blooming as a rose, and I understood you had lost all
your pretty hair. I've brought you some grapes, my dear, and a jar of
extra fine brandy peaches, and little Maggie insisted on sending some
molasses candy she had just made."

"Well, well, I did look for more sense from _you_," said Mrs. Upjohn,
tapping Mrs. Dexter rather smartly on the shoulder. "Where'll you sit?
Oh, on the bed. Yes, Phebe's had a narrow escape, and one she'll likely
bear the marks of to her dying day. Let it be a warning to you, young
ladies, to be prepared. There's no knowing how soon some one of you may
not be carried off in the same way,--just as you are dressed for a dance,
maybe." Her tone implied that death could not overtake them at a more
sinful moment.

"Hullo, up there! I say!" shouted a voice in the hall below,
"how's Phebe?"

"Oh, it's Dick!" cried the Dexter girls in a breath. "You can't come
up, Dick."

"Ain't a-going to.