t her mother looked up, in her cool, business-like way, and said, in
her dry voice,--

"'Jane, what's the matter?'

"'Oh, my head aches dreadfully, and I have pains in all my limbs!'

"I wanted to jump and run to do something for her,--you know at our
house we feel that a sick person must be waited on,--but her mother only
said, in the same dry way,--

"'Well, Jane, you've probably got a cold; go into the kitchen and make
yourself some good boneset tea, soak your feet in hot water, and go to
bed at once'; and Jane meekly departed.

"I wanted to spring and do these things for her; but it's curious, in
this house I never dare offer to do anything; and mother looked at me,
as she went out, with a significant nod,--

"'That's always _my_ way; if any of the children are sick, I never
coddle them; it's best to teach them to make as light of it as
possible.'"

"Dreadful!" said I.

"Yes, it is dreadful," said Emmy, drawing her breath, as if relieved
that she might speak her mind; "it's dreadful to see these people, who I
know love each other, living side by side and never saying a loving,
tender word, never doing a little loving thing,--sick ones crawling off
alone like sick animals, persisting in being alone, bearing everything
alone. But I won't let them; I will insist on forcing my way into their
rooms. I would go and sit with Jane, and pet her and hold her hand and
bathe her head, though I knew it made her horridly uncomfortable at
first; but I thought she ought to learn to be petted in a Christian way,
when she was sick. I will kiss her, too, sometimes, though she takes it
just like a cat that isn't used to being stroked, and calls me a silly
girl; but I know she is getting to like it. What is the use of people's
loving each other in this horridly cold, stingy, silent way? If one of
them were dangerously ill now, or met with any serious accident, I know
there would be no end to what the others would do for her; if one of
them were to die, the others would be perfectly crushed: but it would
all go inward,--drop silently down into that dark, cold, frozen well;
they couldn't speak to each other; they couldn't comfort each other;
they have lost the power of expression; they absolutely _can't_."

"Yes," said I, "they are like the fakirs who have held up an arm till it
has become stiffened,--they cannot now change its position; like the
poor mutes, who, being deaf, have become dumb through disuse of the
organs of spee