aura," Maida said,
conscience-stricken. "Oh, I do hope she won't die."

"It must be dreadful for Laura," Rosie continued, "Harold can't go
near her. Nobody goes into the room but her mother and the nurse."

The news cast a deep gloom over the Court. The little
children--Betsy, Molly and Tim played as usual for they could not
understand the situation. But the noisy fun of the older children
ceased entirely. They gathered on the corner and talked in low
voices, watching with dread any movement in the Lathrop house. For a
week or more Primrose Court was the quietest spot in the
neighborhood.

"They say she's sinking," Rosie said that first night.

The thought of it colored Maida's dreams.

"She's got through the night all right," Rosie reported in the
morning, her face shining with hope. "And they think she's a little
better." But late the next afternoon, Rosie appeared again, her face
dark with dread, "Laura's worse again."

Two or three days passed. Sometimes Laura was better. Oftener she
was worse. Dr. Ames's carriage seemed always to be driving into the
Court.

"Annie says she's dying," Rosie retailed despairingly. "They don't
think she'll live through the night. Oh, won't it be dreadful to
wake up to-morrow and find the crape on the door."

The thought of what she might see in the morning kept Maida awake a
long time that night. When she arose her first glance was for the
Lathrop door. There was no crape.

"No better," Rosie dropped in to say on her way to school "but," she
added hopefully, "she's no worse."

Maida watched the Lathrop house all day, dreading to see the
undertaker's wagon drive up. But it did not come--not that day, nor
the next, nor the next.

"They think she's getting better," Rosie reported joyfully one day.

And gradually Laura did get better. But it was many days before she
was well enough to sit up.

"Mrs. Lathrop says," Rosie burst in one day with an excited face,
"that if we all gather in front of the house to-morrow at one
o'clock, she'll lift Laura up to the window so that we can see her.
She says Laura is crazy to see us all."

"Oh, Rosie, I'm so glad!" Maida exclaimed, delighted. Seizing each
other by the waist, the two little girls danced about the room.

"Oh, I'm going to be so good to Laura when she gets well," Maida
said.

"So am I," Rosie declared with equal fervor. "The last thing I ever
said to her was that she was 'a hateful little smarty-cat.'"

Five minutes