“don’t cry,” phronsie was saying; “because if you do, i cannot help you.”

“she has told everything—just every single thing, charley,” announced bella, tragically turning

around to him.

charley swan stood like a statue, with no eyes for any one but phronsie. she turned a grave face

on him. “i’m afraid she’s badly hurt,” she said. “i think you will have to get dr. phillips, mrs.

higby.”

“it’s only my foot,” said grace with a little moan.

“let me go for him,” begged charley, coming out of his frozen state.

“one of the men’ll go,” said mrs. higby. “la! don’t you stir a mite.” she went to the door, gave

the message, and came back with a sigh of relief. “you poor child, you,” bending over grace’s

foot. “you must have turned it clean over itself. there, there, the cold water’ll be the best we can

do for it till the doctor gets here. my!” as her glance fell again on the dark circles under the blue

eyes, and the elaborate frizzes; then she fell to coughing, and speedily betook herself to the farther

end of the room.

“i’ll hold her,” she said presently, coming back. “miss phronsie, you’re wanted every single

minute in the best room. let me sit there where you be.”

bella sprang to her feet, and blushed rose red. “i forgot you’d left the reception. oh, do excuse

me! and please, miss phronsie pepper, don’t stay here any longer.”

“i shall stay,” said phronsie, “till i see that she is better.”

“where’s phronsie? mrs. higby, do you know where miss phronsie is?” cried old mr. king,

putting his head in the doorway. “oh, my good gracious!” as his eye caught the group.

grace hopped off the lounge, and hobbled along on one foot. “oh, sir! it’s my fault,” she panted;

then she fell flat on the floor.

when she came to herself, she was lying on a bed whose white hangings she could dimly see as

she opened her eyes. her foot felt heavy and queer.

“i’m sure i cannot apologize enough to you, mrs. king,” said a voice that she was quite familiar

with. “this school-girl prank is quite unforgivable, i know, but i hope you won’t lay it up against

me.”

“we ought not to talk here, mrs. atherton,” said polly gently; then they went out into the other

room.

“i don’t think bella drysdale is just the right companion for her,” said mrs. atherton. “i have

thought so for some time. now i shall do my best to break up the intimacy.”

“ugh—o aunt fay!” shrieked grace, trying to raise herself in bed. but she only succeeded in

falling back heavily with a groan.

“dear me, that girl has quite upset me,” cried mrs. atherton, trembling nervously.

“do you stay out here, mrs. atherton,” said polly brightly, with a gentle hand putting her on the

sofa; then she went into the room where grace lay, closed the door, and stepped softly up to the

bed.

“now, little girl,” she said, just as if grace were six years old instead of sixteen, “you must stop

crying, and do not move. if you do, your foot may be injured for life.”

“i can’t help crying,” said poor grace, covering her face with both hands.

“you can help doing anything that is wrong,” said polly gently. then she brought a brush and

comb, unpinned the frizzes, and laid them on the white toilet-table, and began to brush the soft,

straight, shining hair.

“it wasn’t bella at all,” sobbed grace. “she didn’t want to do it, but i made her. oh! i can’t give

bella up, mrs. king.”

“you shall tell your aunt all about it when you are better,” said polly. “now we must not talk

about it. you are going to stay with me until your foot is well enough for you to be moved.”

“what, here in this house with you?” cried grace, almost speechless with astonishment.

“yes,” said polly; “you see, you’ve given your poor foot a terrible wrench, and dr. phillips isn’t

willing that you should be moved just yet. and he can come and see you so much easier here,

grace.”

“i shall get my mamsie,” cried a small, determined voice.

“o mrs. king!” grace rolled her head on the pillow to look at her, “you don’t know how wicked

i’ve been. you can’t know, or you never’d keep me here in all this world. why, i disobeyed my

aunt to come here.”

“yes, i do know,” said polly gravely. “i know it all. but i said we wouldn’t talk about it now.”

then polly sat down on the edge of the bed in her beautiful reception-gown, and grace felt too

wicked to touch it with one finger, although she longed to; and mrs. king held her hand, and told

her stories about her own girlhood,—how the peppers lived in the little brown house just around

the lane, “where you will go when you are able to walk, dear;” and how joel was the pastor of a

big church in new york, and where ben and davie were; and how the dear mother had gone

abroad with father fisher because he was tired and needed rest, and wanted to visit the hospitals

again, and some foreign doctors; and then she told about johnny, and the railroad accident that

took his mother away to heaven, and how good mrs. fargo had adopted him for her very own boy,

and they were there at badgertown for the whole summer. and how mr. higby, in whose

farmhouse the people were all carried who were hurt, had sold his farm, and was now their head

gardener, and good mrs. higby was the housekeeper.

“yes, i think she is quite good,” said grace, snuggling up to the kind hand; “she didn’t scold me a

bit, but she looked so sorry for me, mrs. king.”

“and johnny’s just the dearest dear,” said polly, who always believed him but little short of a

cherub; and then she told how he was thrown from the donkey just the week before, but “it didn’t

hurt him a bit, and”—

“if you please, mrs. king, the children are ready to go to bed,” said katrina, putting her white cap

in the door.

“and now i must go to my chicks,” said polly, getting off the bed. then she bent over, and set a

kiss on the pale cheek. “don’t you worry about anything,” she said. “i shall ask my sister phronsie

to stay with you.”

“mrs. king,” cried grace, nervously clutching the brocade dress, “there is one thing,—if you

could keep aunt fay from writing this to my mother. oh, please do, dear mrs. king!”

“she won’t do it,” said mrs. king quietly; “don’t be afraid, grace.”

grace gave her one look, and relaxed her hold.

“i shall get my mamsie,” cried a small, determined voice; and elyot rushed in in his nightgown,

followed by barby in hers, hugging a dilapidated black doll. “mamsie,” cried barby, stumbling

over to her arms.

“don’t you go in there,” commanded king, coming last, in his nightgown. “sister polly, i couldn’t

help it, i came to keep them out.”

“oh, dear me,” cried katrina, who had gone back after delivering her message, now hurrying in.

“children, how can you!”

“bad, naughty katty,” said barby, shaking her curls at her, “to keep me away from my mummy.

go ’way, katty.”

“o barby!” said polly gently, and nestling her little girl up to her.

“oh, what a cunning little thing!” cried grace in a rapture. “oh, do let her stay, mrs. king!” as

polly made signs for katrina to take her.

“what you in my bed for?” cried king sturdily; “say, and who are you?”

“o king!” said polly; “why, that isn’t like my boy.”

“oh, have i taken his bed?” asked grace in dismay, and making another effort to rise.

elyot perched at the foot, where he surveyed grace at his leisure.

“he calls it his because once when he was sick he left the nursery and came in here to sleep,” said

polly. “now come, children, say good-night to miss grace, and then we must fly to bed.” elyot

had one of her hands now; and he clambered up on the bed, where he perched on the foot, and

surveyed grace at his leisure.

“is that her name because she says grace at the table?” he asked after a pause.

“no, dear, that was her baby name; isn’t it a pretty one?”

“was she ever a baby?” asked barby, looking with intense interest at grace’s long figure under the

bedclothes.

“yes, indeed; she was once a little baby just like all you children.”

“o mamma! not a little one,” said elyot incredulously.

“not a wee, wee, teenty one,” said barby, shaking her head.

“i guess she was as long as that,” said king, measuring off a piece on grace’s frame, that he

supposed a suitable length, “just about as long as that.”

“take care, dear. you may touch her lame foot,” said polly.

and then the children, who had been in the little brown house when the accident occurred,

clamored to know all about it. but polly was firm; and telling them they should hear how it

happened on the morrow, she held barby down for a good-night kiss, a proceeding all the others

imitated, till the three swarmed around grace’s pillow.

“good-night,” said barby, with a sleepy little hum; “do you say ‘now-i-lay-me-down-to-seep’”?

“no,” said grace. how long ago it seemed since she had felt too old to repeat that prayer!

“mamsie, she doesn’t say ‘now-i-lay-me-down-to-seep,’” said barby, trying to open wide her

eyes.

“come, dears.”

“what do you say?” cried elyot, pulling the bedspread, “say?”

“elyot!” said his mother. he took one look at her face, and then scuttled off, picking up the

nightgown to facilitate progress.

so polly went off, her baby on her arm. barby, whose eyes drooped at every step, dropped the

black doll out of her sleepy hand; katrina picked it up, and helped the boys along.

just then phronsie came in with a pleased expression on her face to see how cheery everything

was.

“your aunt has gone,” she said; “but she is coming out to-morrow to see how you are.”

so polly went off, her baby on her arm.

grace achieved a sitting posture, impossible as it had seemed before. “oh, dear mrs. king!” she

screamed, “now i know she will write to mamma this evening.”

polly set barby in her little crib, then sped back. “no, grace,” she said, “she won’t write; you can

trust me, dear.”

“she always writes evenings when she’s anything on her mind,” said grace; “and she’d hurry

about this.” but upon mrs. king’s assuring her that she would take the care of this upon herself,

grace cuddled down again, and let phronsie comfort her.

and by and by, while polly’s messenger was speeding to the city with just such a letter as she

knew how to write, addressed to mrs. carroll atherton, mrs. higby herself came up with grace’s

supper; and when she saw how cheery things were, and how everything was beginning to mend,

she put her arms akimbo, and said, “my land! but you’ll be as spry as a cricket in a week.”

“i brought you some flowers,” said phronsie, laying down a little bunch where grace’s fingers

could reach them.

grace looked at them, but did not offer to touch them.

“what is it?” asked phronsie.

“might i just have one little sprig of those you held in your hand when you came after i was hurt,

miss phronsie?”

“why, yes, you may. mrs. higby, will you get them? you may have the whole bunch,” she said to

grace.

“oh, only just one sprig, please,” said grace eagerly.

but the whole bunch of lilies-of-the-valley was brought; and grace held them in her hands, and

buried her face in them, and then she opened her mouth obediently, while mrs. higby, after

tucking a napkin under her chin, fed her from a generous plate of milk-toast, and everything was

getting quite jolly.

“she looks better already, don’t she, miss phronsie!” exclaimed mrs. higby in admiration of the

effect of the treatment. “my! but ain’t this nice milk-toast, though! i guess i know, for i made it

myself. there, take this, poor dear.”

“i’m sorry to make you all so much trouble,” said grace penitently, with her mouth half full.

“don’t feed her too fast, please, mrs. higby,” said phronsie, looking on with the deepest interest.

“my land! she ought to eat to keep her strength up,” said mrs. higby, plying the spoon

industriously. “just so much milk-toast such as this is, and every hour you’ll see that leg of hers

getting well like lightning.”

and then old mr. king had to come and stand in the doorway, and say how glad he was that the

foot was hurt no worse, for it had given him a dreadful fright to see her fear of his displeasure.

and when grace saw his handsome face light up with a smile for her, her last fear left her; and she

gave a sigh of relief as he went off, obediently finished the toast, and settled back on her pillow.

“land, how weak she must be to eat like that! she feels the need of victuals,” said mrs. higby.

“now i’ll run down and make you another slice,” nodding to grace, “you poor dear, you.”

“oh, don’t let her!” begged grace in alarm. “o miss phronsie! i couldn’t eat another morsel.”

“she doesn’t want any more, mrs. higby,” said phronsie; “truly she doesn’t.”

“but just s’posin’ she should be weak and faint in the night,” said mrs. higby. “i’d better make

just one little thin slice, hadn’t i, miss phronsie,” standing irresolute in the doorway.

“no,” said phronsie firmly. “i don’t think you had, mrs. higby. there, i’m going to tuck her up

now, and then i shall stay with her.”

“will you, miss phronsie?” cried grace in delight.

“yes,” said phronsie, “i shall stay just as long as you want me to.”