Part 14 (1/2)
”Wasn't it queer that I should have seen Mrs. Ryan?” said Edna. ”I shall have so much to tell Maggie.”
”I think it is funny for you to be friends with a little orphan asylum girl,” returned Dorothy.
”Well, you see, she isn't zactly a orphan, 'cause they don't know whether she has a father or not, and then, you know, I feel so sorry for her.”
”So do I,” replied Dorothy. ”I don't mean I wouldn't help her if I could, but I never knew anyone before who had a friend like that.”
”O!” said Edna, suddenly, ”my strawberry is getting so soft I shall have to eat it. I wish I had held it by the stem, instead of in my hand. Yours isn't a bit soft.”
”Perhaps yours was the ripest. I'll eat mine, too, if you eat yours, and we can give mamma and sister the violets.”
This was agreed upon, and the children disposed of the strawberries lingeringly.
Miss Agnes was lying on the lounge when they found her in the sitting-room.
”I have a bad headache,” she told Edna. ”Did you enjoy your walk?”
[Ill.u.s.tration: MISS AGNES.]
”Yes,” replied she; ”but I'm awfully tired.”
”Come cuddle up here by me,” said Miss Agnes. ”You have had such an exciting time I don't wonder you are tired. You must go to bed early.”
Edna was quite ready to share with Dorothy the pretty little bra.s.s bedstead, but she did not lie awake long, and in the morning was very loath to move when Dorothy called her.
”How red your face is,” said Dorothy, as Edna sat up. ”You look sort of queer.”
”I feel sort of queer,” replied she, putting her head down on the pillow again.
Dorothy slipped out of bed, and ran into the next room, where her sister slept. At her gentle little shake Agnes turned over with a sigh.
”What is it?” she asked, sleepily.
”Why--” began Dorothy. ”O, sister, your face is red, too.”
”Is it? I feel headachy.”
”You and Edna look just the same way,” declared Dorothy. And sure enough, both showed well-developed cases of measles.
Edna was not very ill, but it was not considered safe for her to go back to the city for some time, much to Dorothy's delight.
Hearing of the two sick girls, Mrs. MacDonald came over and took Edna under her especial care. She was an excellent nurse, and made the little child as comfortable as a tender mother could. Then when Edna was able to be up, and Mrs. MacDonald was no longer needed, every day came fruit or flowers from the kind woman.
One day Edna was much surprised by a visit from Uncle Justus. Two whole weeks since she had seen him; and he brought her--who would have thought it!--he brought Edna's doll, Ada, with him.
”Why, Uncle Justus,” said Edna, looking at her doll with pleased eyes.
”How did you happen to know that I wanted to see Ada so much?”