for so early in the season."

"It's the plants and vines, I guess," replied Mrs. Ayres, sitting
down opposite Mrs. Whitman. "Lucy has real good luck with them."

"How is Lucy this morning?"

Mrs. Ayres wrinkled her forehead again. "She's in bed with a sick
headache," she said. "She has an awful lot of them lately. I'm afraid
she's kind of run down."

"Why don't you get a tonic?"

"Well, I have been thinking of it, but Dr. Wallace gives such
dreadful strong medicines, and Lucy is so delicate, that I have
hesitated. I don't know but I ought to take her to Alford to Dr.
Gilbert, but she doesn't want to go. She says it is too expensive,
and she says there's nothing the matter with her; but she has these
terrible headaches almost every other day, and she doesn't eat enough
to keep a sparrow alive, and I can't help being worried about her."

"It doesn't seem right," agreed Mrs. Whitman. "Last time I was here I
thought she didn't look real well. She's got color, a real pretty
color, but it isn't the right kind."

"That's just it," said Mrs. Ayres, wrinkling her forehead. "The
color's pretty, but you can see too plain where the red leaves off
and where the white begins."

"Speaking about color," said Mrs. Whitman, "I am going to ask you