unter wrapped in an old
shawl.

"Why, Miss Bunner, you're sick! You must have fever--your 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 the tea like an
obedient child, allowed a poultice to be applied to her aching chest and
uttered no protest when a fire was kindled in the rarely used grate; but
as Mrs. Hawkins bent over to "settle" her pillows she raised herself on
her elbow to whisper: "Oh, Mrs. Hawkins, Mrs. Hochmuller warn't there."
The tears rolled down her cheeks.

"She warn't there? Has she moved?"

"Over two months ago--and they don't know where she's gone. Oh what'll I
do, Mrs. Hawkins?"

"There, there, Miss Bunner. You lay still and don't fret. I'll ask Mr.
Hawkins soon as ever he comes home."

Ann Eliza murmured her gratitude, and Mrs. Hawkins, bending down, kissed
her on the forehead. "Don't you fret," she repeated, in the voice with
which she soothed her children.

For over a week Ann Eliza lay in bed, faithfully nursed by her two
neighbours, while the weak-eyed child, and the pale sewing girl who
had helped to finish Evelina's wedding dress, took turns in minding the
shop. Every morning, when h