, her arms full of purple asters,
until the look of hopelessness left her eyes and her face took on a
pretty pink flush. But the twins strayed away, and before they were
found the amethyst mists of the autumn evening were filling the valley.
Miss Arabella took a severe cold, and the next day she went to bed.

Mrs. Winters scolded the whole picnic party, Arabella most of all; and
having used all her medical skill upon her to no avail, she grew
alarmed, and called in Dr. Allen.

He came to see the quiet, patient little woman nearly every day for a
week, and at the end of that time was forced to confess that she was
growing steadily worse, and that there was something wrong with her
that quite baffled his skill.

He left her house one afternoon, and went slowly down the walk with a
very grave face. Polly called after him from the veranda that times
were still very slow, but he did not hear, and he almost stumbled
against Elsie Cameron as she came through the gateway carrying a
covered bowl.

"Ah, you are the very person I want to consult," he said, his face
brightening. "I wish you would do something for my patient in there."

"Is her cold worse?"

"No, it isn't a cold that ails her; I confess I don't know what it is.
There seems to be some secret trouble weighing on her mind. I wish you
could discover what it is, and see if you can help her. I am doing her
no good, and there's no doubt that she is steadily growing weaker."

His manner was very serious, and Elsie entered the little house with a
foreboding at her heart. He was right. Some strange trouble had been
pressing upon Arabella's mind all summer, she felt sure. She passed
through the house and placed the bowl on the kitchen table.

Mrs. Winters was there, and the place was dazzlingly clean. "There!"
she exclaimed, with a sigh of satisfaction, "I've polished the stove
and scrubbed the floor, an' put up five quarts o' pickled pears, an'
to-morrow I'm goin' to house-clean the front part. Arabella always
kept things kind of in order, but she was never anything of a manager.
If you were thinkin' o' stayin' a little, Elsie, I'd run over an' look
after my bread, an' then give Hannah a hand with her sewing. It's a
caution how them twins get through their clothes. They ought to be
well whipped for it. Now, that soup's just awful nice, Elsie. It was
good of your ma to send it, an' it's only slops like that Arabella'll
take. No, she ain't a bit better,