tense waiting.

I resolved that if err I must it should be on the
side of safety. I turned to sister Norah.

"How am I feeling anyway, Norah?" I guardedly
inquired.

Norah's face was a study. "Why Dawn dear," she said,
sugar-sweet, "no doubt you know better than I. But I'm
sure that you are wonderfully improved--almost your old
self, in fact. Don't you think she looks splendid, Mrs.
Whalen?"

The three Whalens tore their gaze from my blank
countenance to exchange a series of meaning looks.

"I suppose," purred Mrs. Whalen, " that your awful
trouble was the real cause of your--a-a-a-sickness,
worrying about it and grieving as you must have."

She pronounces it with a capital T, and I know she
means Peter. I hate her for it.

"Trouble!" I chirped. "Trouble never troubles me.
I just worked too hard, that's all, and acquired an awful
`tired.' All work and no play makes Jill a nervous
wreck, you know."

At that the elephantine Flossie wagged a playful