She reconstructed scene after scene, with the hero always prostrate and the family physician opening the black case of phials.

She emphatically renewed her recollection of accidental misfortunes to the body of Penrod Schofield, omitting neither the considerable nor the inconsiderable, forgetting no strain, sprain, cut, bruise or dislocation of which she had knowledge.

And running this film in a sequence unrelieved by brighter interludes, she produced a biographical picture of such consistent and unremittent gloom that Penrod's past appeared to justify disturbing thoughts about his present and future.
She became less and less at ease, reproaching herself for having gone away, wondering how she had brought herself to do such a crazy thing, for it seemed to her that the members of her family were almost helpless without her guidance; they were apt to do anything--anything at all--or to catch anything.

The more she thought about her having left these irresponsible harebrains unprotected and undirected for three days, the less she was able to account for her action.

It seemed to her that she must have been a little flighty; but, shaking her head grimly, she decided that flightiness was not a good excuse.