"It's very kind of you to be sorry, but it isn't as if I were really _ill_, you know.

I can _almost_ stand on one foot,--that is, I can bear enough weight on it to get from my bed to my chair without help.

That is a _great_ thing! And then when I am once in my chair, why I can go almost anywhere.

Farmer Hartley gave me this chair," she added, looking down at it, and patting the arm tenderly, as if it were a living friend; "isn't it a beauty ?" It was a pretty chair, made of cherry wood, with cushions of gay-flowered chintz; and Hilda, finding her voice again, praised it warmly.

"This is its summer dress," said Pink, her eyes sparkling with pleasure.