don't believe you've got anything on hand but bread and jam and tea?"

"I care a great deal!" she assured him laughing, and then looked
worried. "Yes, I really have been living on bread and jam." She was
hanging on his arm, and once she kissed his hand. "Will you go
upstairs? And I'll see what we can do about food. That dreadful
Maggie! She's sick in bed."

Mr. Pryor looked annoyed. "Can't she get us something to eat? Ask her,
Nelly; I don't believe it will hurt her. Here; give her that," and he
took a crumpled bill out of his waistcoat pocket.

She did not take the money, but her eyes shone. "You are the most
generous being!" she said. Then, sobering, she thought of Maggie's
throat--hesitated--and Maggie was lost. For when she opened the
woman's door, and in her sweet, appealing voice declared that Mr.
Pryor had come unexpectedly, and was so hungry--what _should_ they
do?--Maggie, who adored her, insisted upon going down to the kitchen.

"Oh, Maggie, you oughtn't to! I oughtn't to let you. Maggie, look
here: you will be careful, won't you?"

"Now, you go right along back to your brother," the woman commanded
smiling. "I'm goin' to get into my clothes; t'won't do me a bit of
harm."

And Helena, protesting and joyous, fled to her room and to her mirror.
She flung off her cambric morning dress and ran to hunt in her
wardrobe for something pretty. With girlish hurry she pulled her hair
down, braided it afresh, and fastened the burnished plats around her