ian did not go after him but sat looking off at the mountain. "I
want to go, oh, Lord, I do want to go," she said wistfully, "and I
believe you will let Miss Dorothy manage it, yes, I do." She sat
with her eyes fixed upon the mountain for some time, then she gave a
long sigh, and changed her position. "I believe I'll go get Patty's
letter and read it over again," she said, beginning to climb down
the tree.

In a little while she was back again in her old place, letter in
hand. She had finished reading it and was looking off down street
watching for Miss Dorothy's return when she saw Mrs. Hunt entering
the front door; she had come down street this time, instead of up.
"She's come to see grandma, I suppose," said Marian. Then a thought
flashed across her mind; she wondered if Miss Dorothy's works had
anything to do with Mrs. Hunt's coming. To be sure Miss Dorothy was
not with her, but neither had she been that other time when Mrs.
Hunt had managed so well about the apron. Marian could not resist
the temptation of going in to hear what her grandmother and Mrs.
Hunt were talking about. She paused at the door of the sitting-room.
Mrs. Hunt sat rocking in one of the haircloth rockers, Mrs. Otway in
the other.

"Yes," Mrs. Hunt was saying, "Dr. Grimes says she's not likely to be
about again soon if she gets over it."

Mrs. Otway looked very grave. "I'm sorry for more reasons than one.
Marian needs a new coat, and I had counted on Almira's making it."

It was Miss Belt, then, of whom they were talking. Marian crept
softly in and sat down in a corner where she could hear more.

"They think she got it up there at Billing's," Mrs. Hunt went on.
"She was sewing there a while ago, and Dr. Grimes says the water on
that place isn't fit to drink; they ought to boil it. Like as not
that is where she did get it. Typhoid is pretty slow, but she has a
good nurse in Hannah, and I don't doubt she'll pull through. Is that
you, Marian? Come here, honey."

Marian went to her old friend. "I was telling about Almira Belt's
being down with typhoid," said Mrs. Hunt.

"Oh, isn't that too bad?" Marian's sympathies were real. She liked
Miss Almira, though she didn't enjoy having her cold scissors
snipping around her shoulders, and her bony fingers poking at her
when she stood up to be fitted.

"It is too bad," returned Mrs. Hunt, "for her work has to lie by;
there's no one else to do it, for her sister Hannah has her hands
full."

"I'm tr