isn't happy?"

"But she is better. She never complains. She almost never fancies things
now."

"She goes into corners and stares--and she wrings her hands."

"But she always did that, duck."

Jane was not equal to a more lucid explanation.

"It's not the same," she insisted. "I know it isn't. Esther, when you
go away, will you take Aunt Amy and me?"

"How could I, dear? Your home is here. And you like Dr. Callandar, don't
you?"

"I used to. But he never plays with the pup any more. He's different.
And you're different and mother's different. I don't want to live with
mother. That was a fib I told you the other day about the cut on my
head. I didn't fall and hurt it. It was mother She threw her clothes
brush at me."

"Jane!" There was pure horror in her sister's voice.

"Yes, she did. I went into her room when she was taking some medicine in
a glass and I asked her what it was. Honest, Esther, that is all I did.
And she screamed at me--and threw the brush."

Esther came back into the room and sat down.

"When was this?" in businesslike tones.

Jane considered. "It was that day she wasn't down stairs at all, and
sent word to Dr. Callandar not to come--three days ago I think."

"Yes, I remember. O Janie dear, it looks as if things were going to be
bad again! It must have been one of her very bad headaches. She was
probably in great pain. Of course she did not mean to throw the brush
Are you sure it was medicine she was taking?"

"It was something in a glass," vaguely, "she was mixing it--look out,
Esther! You are spoiling your new gloves."

The girl threw the crumpled gloves aside and drawing the child to her
knee kissed her gently.

"It seems to me," she said slowly, "that big sister has been losing her
eyes lately. She must find them again; it isn't going to help to be a
selfish pig."

"Help what, Esther?"

Esther's only answer was another kiss, but when she had hurried out of
the room, Jane found something round and wet upon her hand.

CHAPTER XXVIII

Jane was still looking at the wet place on her hand when the doctor
entered.

"Esther's been crying," she told him. In her voice was the awe which
children feel at the phenomenon of tears in grown-ups.

Callandar felt his heart contract--Esther crying! But he could not
question the child.

"I don't know why," went on Jane obligingly. "Esther's so strange
lately. Every one is strange. You are strange too. Am I strange?"

"A little,"