"Take some of the toast," said Mrs. Grant, after pouring a cup of
tea. Mary helped herself, in a dull way, to a slice of toast, but
did not attempt to eat. Mrs. Grant looked at her narrowly from
across the table, and noticed that her eyes, which had appeared
large and glittering when she came home, were now lustreless, with
the lids drooping heavily.

"Can't you eat anything?" asked Mrs. Grant, in a voice that
expressed concern.

Mary pushed her cup and plate away, and leaning back, wearily, in
her chair, answered--

"Not just now. I'm completely worn out, and feel hot and oppressed."

Mrs. Grant got up and came around to where Miss Carson was sitting.
As she laid her hand upon her forehead, she said, a little
anxiously, "You have considerable fever, Mary."

"I shouldn't wonder." And a sudden cough seized her as she spoke.
She cried out as the rapid concussions jarred her, and pressed one
hand against her side.

"Oh dear! It seemed as if a knife were cutting through me," she
said, as the paroxysm subsided, and she leaned her head against Mrs.
Grant.

"Come, child," and the kind woman drew upon one of her arms. "In bed
is the place for you now."