CHAPTER VII.
CONVALESCENCE "Is that the Nelson phaeton going out the road ?" asked Mrs.Hollis as she peered out through the dining-room window one morning.

"I shouldn't be a bit surprised if it was Mrs.Nelson making her yearly visits, and here my bricks haven't been reddened." Sandy's heart turned a somersault.

He was sitting up for the first time, wrapped in blankets and wearing a cap to cover his close-cropped head.

All through his illness he had been tortured by the thought that he had talked of Ruth, though now wild horses could not have dragged forth a question concerning her.
"Melvy," continued Mrs.Hollis, as she briskly rubbed the sideboard with some unsavory furniture-polish, "if Mrs.Nelson does come here, you be sure to put on your white apron before you open the door; and for pity sake don't forget the card-tray! You ought to know better than to stick out your hand for a lady's calling-card.

I told you about that last week." Aunt Melvy paused in her dusting and chuckled: "Lor', honey, dat's right! You orter put on airs all de time, wid all de money de judge is got.