plea that
Lois did it better; which was true, no doubt. Or Mr. Lenox himself
would join them, and turn everything Tom said into banter; till Lois
could not help laughing, though yet she was vexed.

So days went on. And then something happened to relieve both parties of
the efforts they were making; a very strange thing to happen at the
Isles of Shoals. Mrs. Wishart was taken seriously ill. She had not been
quite well when she came; and she always afterwards maintained that the
air did not agree with her. Lois thought it could not be the air, and
must be some imprudence; but however it was, the fact was undoubted.
Mrs. Wishart was ill; and the doctor who was fetched over from
Portsmouth to see her, said she could not be moved, and must be
carefully nursed. Was it the air? It couldn't be the air, he answered;
nobody ever got sick at the Isles of Shoals. Was it some imprudence?
Couldn't be, he said; there was no way in which she could be imprudent;
she could not help living a natural life at Appledore. No, it was
something the seeds of which she had brought with her; and the strong
sea air had developed it. Reasoning which Lois did not understand; but
she understood nursing, and gave herself to it, night and day. There
was a sudden relief to Miss Julia's watch and ward; nobody was in
danger of saying too many words to Lois now; nobody could get a chance;
she was only seen by glimpses.

"How long is this sort of thing going on?" inquired Mr. Lenox one
afternoon. He and Julia had been spending a very unrefreshing hour on
the piazza doing nothing.

"Impossible to say."

"I'm rather tired of it. How long has Mrs. Wishart been laid up now?"

"A week; and she has no idea of being moved."

"Well, are we fixtures too?"

"You know what I came for, George. If Tom will go, I will, and
thankful."

"Tom," said the gentleman, as Tom at this minute came out of the house,
"have you got enough of Appledore?"

"I don't care about Appledore. It's the fishing." Tom, I may remark,
had been a good deal out in a fishing-boat during this past week.
"That's glorious."

"But you don't care for fishing, old boy."

"O, don't I!"

"No, not a farthing. Seriously, don't you think we might mend our
quarters?"

"You can," said Tom. "Of course I can't go while Mrs. Wishart is sick.
I can't leave those two women alone here to take care of themselves.
You can take Julia and my mother away, where you like."

"And a good riddance," muttere