But there was little time to brood upon such problems. The
care of Evelina filled Ann Eliza's days and nights. The hastily
summoned doctor had pronounced her to be suffering from pneumonia,
and under his care the first stress of the disease was relieved.
But her recovery was only partial, and long after the doctor's
visits had ceased she continued to lie in bed, too weak to move,
and seemingly indifferent to everything about her.

At length one evening, about six weeks after her return, she
said to her sister: "I don't feel's if I'd ever get up again."

Ann Eliza turned from the kettle she was placing on the stove.
She was startled by the echo the words woke in her own breast.

"Don't you talk like that, Evelina! I guess you're on'y tired
out--and disheartened."

"Yes, I'm disheartened," Evelina murmured.

A few months earlier Ann Eliza would have met the confession
with a word of pious admonition; now she accepted it in silence.

"Maybe you'll brighten up when your cough gets better," she
suggested.

"Yes--or my cough'll get better when I brighten up," Evelina
retorted with a touch of her old tartness.

"Does your cough keep on hurting you jest as much?"