'He does not know you are sick.

He will come when he can see you--to-morrow, maybe.

Would you like to have him ?' A warm pressure of the hand was Maude's reply, as the moisture gathered upon her heavy eyelashes.

But Jerrie kissed it away, though her own hot tears fell upon Maude's hair, which, however, was so thick that she did not feel them; nor did she dream what it cost Jerrie to sit there and tell her everything of Harold which she could think of, because she knew that would please the sick girl better.

Once she made Maude laugh, as she took off little Billy, imitating his voice so perfectly that a person outside would have said he was in the room.