face is just as red!"

"It's nothing. I guess I caught cold yesterday on the ferry-
boat," Ann Eliza acknowledged.

"And it's jest like a vault in here!" Mrs. Hawkins rebuked
her. "Let me feel your hand--it's burning. Now, Miss Bunner,
you've got to go right to bed this very minute."

"Oh, but I can't, Mrs. Hawkins." Ann Eliza attempted a wan
smile. "You forget there ain't nobody but me to tend the store."

"I guess you won't tend it long neither, if you ain't
careful," Mrs. Hawkins grimly rejoined. Beneath her placid
exterior she cherished a morbid passion for disease and death, and
the sight of Ann Eliza's suffering had roused her from her habitual
indifference. "There ain't so many folks comes to the store
anyhow," she went on with unconscious cruelty, "and I'll go right
up and see if Miss Mellins can't spare one of her girls."

Ann Eliza, too weary to resist, allowed Mrs. Hawkins to put
her to bed and make a cup of tea over the stove, while Miss
Mellins, always good-naturedly responsive to any appeal for help,
sent down the weak-eyed little girl to deal with hypothetical
customers.

Ann Eliza, having so far abdicated her independence, sank into
sudden apathy. As far as she could remember, it was the first time
in her life that she had been taken care of instead of taking care,
and there was a momentary relief in the surrender. She swallowed