pa
but for _Sherlock Holmes_. If I was you I'd jest try to stir her up with
these books. I'll fetch 'em to her. I read the one of Ouida's and it's
real good--and, come to think of it, brimful of eating. Who knows but
it'll git her to wanting to eat herself. Why, when I think what kind of
cook she was, it don't seem possible! But now don't you worry, Emmy;
she'll come all right and she'll come all right 'bout Mrs. Glenn, good
friends as they've always been. Why, she always has liked Lida Glenn
better than all her other friends together! She'll _have_ to make up.
Don't you fret a bit." She said the words in a hearty voice, and she
strode vigorously across the grass to the piazza and presented her
package with a breezy cheer. "Here's two new books by Ouida, and one by
Bertha M. Clay, and two by Maria Corelly, Mrs. Darter; and Emmy'll be
ready to read them to you soon."

Mrs. Darter had a delicate pale face, much like Emmy's in features, but
etched with tiny wrinkles. The corners of her mouth dropped, and there
was a habitual frown of pain on her pretty forehead. She did not look
ungentle, only obstinate.

"Thank you," she murmured. Then she sighed.

Mrs. Conner opened her mouth, and shut it again, compressing the lips
with unnecessary firmness.

Mrs. Darter laid her head back on her chair. She closed her eyes. A
plaintive, sibilant noise hissed through her parted lips.

"Well, I'm real sorry you're sick," said Mrs. Connor, her voice again
full of good-nature. "I guess what you need is a little nourishing
food--"

Mrs. Darter screamed, and Mrs. Conner stood aghast. She was more aghast
to behold all the apparent symptoms of a swoon in the invalid, and would
have run for water--an act, however, prevented by the timely opening of
Mrs. Darter's eyes. "Don't say the word!" she begged, shuddering. "I
have to starve off a pleurisy. It would _kill_ me! And the books are no
good; I'm too sick to hear reading. Oh dear! Oh dear! Oh dear!"

Mrs. Conner backed off the piazza--she said she guessed she must go--and
left Mrs. Darter moaning and rocking.

"And to tell you the truth, Miss Keith"--thus she ended a breathless
narration to her new boarder--"I went quick, for I knew I couldn't hold
in one minnit longer! And how'd it help poor Emmy to have her mother
quarrel with Lida Glenn and me the same day? There's Susy Baker making
eyes at Albert Glenn, this minnit; and if she ain't carrying Mrs. Glenn
some of her ma's blueberry c