"My dear, what _am_ I going to do? It's really too dreadful. Instead of
some one to help me, which is what papa meant, Mrs. Watson seems to depend
on me to take all the care of her; and she says she has fainting fits and
disease of the heart! How can I take care of her? Phil needs me all the
time, and a great deal more than she does; I don't see how I can."

"You can't, of course. You are here to take care of Phil; and it is out of
the question that you should have another person to look after. But I
think you must mistake Mrs. Watson, Clovy. I know that Mrs. Hall wrote
plainly about Phil's illness, for she showed me the letter."

"Just wait till you hear her talk," cried the exasperated Clover. "You
will find that I didn't mistake her at all. Oh, why did Mrs. Hall
interfere? It would all seem so easy in comparison--so perfectly easy--if
only Philly and I were alone together."

Katy thought that Clover was fretted and disposed to exaggerate; but after
Mrs. Watson joined them a little later, she changed her opinion. The old
lady was an inveterate talker, and her habit of only half finishing her
sentences made it difficult to follow the meanderings of her rambling
discourse. It turned largely on her daughter, Mrs. Phillips, her husband,
children, house, furniture, habits, tastes, and the Phillips connection
generally.

"She's the only one I've got," she informed Mrs. Dayton; "so of course
she's all-important to me. Jane Phillips--that's Henry's youngest
sister--often says that really of all the women she ever knew Ellen is the
most--And there's plenty to do always, of course, with three children and
such a large elegant house and company coming all the--It's lucky that