d on her.

Mary's first instinct was to pour out some warm water, and bringing it
with a sponge, to say, 'Would not this refresh you?'

Averil moved petulantly; but the soft warm stream was so grateful to
her burning brow, that she could not resist; she put her head back, and
submitted like a child to have her face bathed, saying, 'Thank you.'

Mary then begged to remove her tight heavy dress, and make her
comfortable in her dressing-gown.

'Oh, I can't! Then I could not go back.'

'Yes, you could; this is quite a dress; besides, one can move so much
more quietly without crinoline.'

'I didn't think of that;' and she stood up, and unfastened her hooks.
'Perhaps Dr. May would let me go back now!' as a mountain of mohair and
scarlet petticoat remained on the floor, upborne by an over-grown steel
mouse-trap.

'Perhaps he will by and by; but he said you must sleep first.'

'Sleep--I can't sleep. There's no one but me. I couldn't sleep.'

'Then at least let me try to freshen you up. There. You don't know
what good it used to do my sister Blanche, for me to brush her hair. I
like it.'

And Mary obtained a dreamy soothed submission, so that she almost
thought she was brushing her victim to sleep in her chair, before the
maid came up with the viands that Dr. May had ordered.

'I can't eat that,' said Averil, with almost disgust. 'Take it away.'

'Please don't,' said Mary. 'Is that the way you use me, Miss Ward,
when I come to drink tea with you?'

'Oh, I beg your pardon,' was the mechanical answer.

Mary having made the long hair glossy once more, into a huge braid, and
knotted it up, came forth, and insisted that they were to be
comfortable over their grilled chickens' legs. She was obliged to make
her own welcome, and entertain her hostess; and strenuously she worked,
letting the dry lips imbibe a cup of tea, before she attempted the
solids; then coaxing and commanding, she gained her point, and
succeeded in causing a fair amount of provisions to be swallowed; after
which Averil seemed more inclined to linger in enjoyment of the
liquids, as though the feverish restlessness were giving place to a
sense of fatigue and need of repose.

'This is all wrong,' said she, with a faint bewildered smile, as Mary
filled up her cup for her. 'I ought to be treating you as guest, Miss
May.'

'Oh, don't call me Miss May! Call me Mary. Think me a sister. You
know I have known something of like trouble, only I w