"I was wrong to let you sit down at all after you had got heated."

"Well, Grace, I had to," said she who was called Louise. "I was so tired
out. I'm not going to take more cold. I can always tell when I am. I'll
put on the shawl in half a minute; or else I'll go in."

"I'm sure there's nothing to keep me out. That's the worst of these
lonely places: my mind preys upon itself. That's what Dr. Nixon always
said: he said it was no use in air so long as my mind preyed upon itself.
He said that I ought to divert my mind all I could, and keep it from
preying upon itself; that it was worth all the medicine in the world."

"That's perfectly true."

"Then you ought n't to keep reminding me all the time that I'm sick.
That's what starts my mind to preying upon itself; and when it gets going
once I can't stop it. I ought to treat myself just like a well person;
that's what the doctor said."

The other stood looking at the speaker in frowning perplexity. She was a
serious-faced girl, and now when she frowned her black brows met sternly
above her gray eyes. But she controlled any impulse she had to severity,
and asked gently, "Shall I send Bella to you?"

"Oh, no! I can't make society out of a child the whole time. I'll just
sit here till the barge comes in. I suppose it will be as empty as a
gourd, as usual." She added, with a sick and weary negligence, "I don't
even know where Bella is. She's run off, somewhere."

"It's quite time she should be looked up, for tea. I'll wander out that