and adaptable, while poor old Mitnick crouched in the
fork of a high pine, and glared with her yellow eyes and waved her
great tail in furious revolt at those puffing, snorting monsters which
she never could abide anyway,--and she was glad she couldn't.

We had no automobile, but the sorrels were there in the height of their
glory and slimness, and we still basked in the refulgence of the
coachman and footman of Bee's own selection, so her soul was at peace.

Only one thing happened to mar our pleasure. Jimmie fell ill.

Mrs. Jimmie hunted me up one blistering morning, and said, anxiously:

"Faith, I am very much worried about Jimmie. He is lying down."

"Well, what of it?" I said, with unintentioned brutality. "Does he
always sit up that you seem so surprised?"

She looked at me reproachfully.

"He always sits up when he is well," she said, gently.

"Is he ill?" I exclaimed, dropping my gardening shears and hastily
wiping my hands on my apron. "Can I do anything for him? Does he need
a doctor? I'll go right up."

Mrs. Jimmie coloured all over her soft creamy face. She laid her hand
on my arm.

"Don't be offended, will you, dear?" she begged, "but--Jimmie--you know
how unreasonable sick men are--"

She paused helplessly.

I waited.

"Well, out with it! What does he want?"

"He said--I didn't realize how difficult it would be to tell you when
he said it--but he said--"

Again she stopped.

"I shall evidently have to go and ask him what he wants," I said,
moving toward the house.

"No, no, dear! I will tell you! Don't go near him!" pleaded Mrs.
Jimmie. "That is just what he doesn't want. He said on no account
were you to come near him."

She paused with a gasp. Evidently she expected me to burst into tears.

"The brute!" I remarked, pleasantly. "I hope he is suffering!"

Mrs. Jimmie's beautiful face became instantly grave.

"He is suffering, Faith," she said, quietly.

"Then why won't he see me? Perhaps I could do something. Aubrey
always lets me try. Has he a headache?"

"He has a splitting headache, he says, and a high fever, and his collar
hurts him."

"His collar hurts him! Then why doesn't he take it off?"

"That's just it. He won't. He says he always wears it and it never
hurt him before, and he'll be--well, he says he won't take it off for
anybody."

I turned away and bit my lip.

Poor old sick, obstinate Jimmie! In my mind's eye I could just see him
lying t