Don't want any breakfast, just another little nap." So the good soul went down, leaving me to my wretched thoughts.

At noon she came up again.
"John, you had better rise now.

Father can't come to dinner there's so many customers in the store.

Seems as if there was going to be a ball to-night again; every girl in town is after ribbon, or lace, or hair-pins, or something." "I can't get up to-day, mother.

I'm awfully unwell--got a high fever--_you'll_ have to go in and lend father a helping hand"; and so she brought me a cup of tea and a piece of toast, and then went up to take father's place while he ate his dinner.
I _guess_ she suspected I'd been done for again by the way those young women laughed when she told them I was sick in bed: for she was pretty cross when I sneaked down to tea, and didn't seem to worry about how I felt.