nd too tired
to do the little household tasks she had delighted in. She never spoke
about Roselle Geraldine, but Tommy knew she was fretting about her.
Mrs. Knox could not think what ailed the child.

"She don't take a bit of interest in nothing," she complained to Mrs.
Puffer. "She don't eat enough for a bird. The doctor, he says there
ain't nothing the matter with her as he can find out, but she's just
pining away."

Tommy heard this, and a queer, big lump came up in his throat. He had
a horrible fear that he, Tommy Puffer, was going to cry. To prevent it
he began to whistle loudly. But the whistle was a failure, very unlike
the real Tommy-whistle. Bessie was sick--and it was all his fault,
Tommy believed. If he had never taken her to see that hateful,
blue-silk doll, she would never have got so fond of it as to be
breaking her heart because it was sold.

"If I was only rich," said Tommy miserably, "I'd buy her a cartload of
dolls, all dressed in blue silk and all with brown eyes. But I can't
do nothing."

By this time Tommy had reached the paling in front of Miss Octavia's
lawn, and from force of habit he stopped to look over it. But there
was not much to see this time, only the little green rows and circles
in the brown, well-weeded beds, and the long curves of dahlia plants,
which Miss Octavia had set out a few days before. All the geraniums
were carried in, and the blinds were down. Tommy knew Miss Octavia was
away. He had seen her depart on the train that morning, and heard her
tell a friend that she was going down to Chelton to visit her
brother's folks and wouldn't be back until the next day.

Tommy was still leaning moodily against the paling when Mrs. Jenkins
and Mrs. Reid came by, and they too paused to look at the garden.

"Dear me, how cold it is!" shivered Mrs. Reid. "There's going to be a
hard frost tonight. Octavia's flowers will be nipped as sure as
anything. It's a wonder she'd stay away from them overnight when her
heart's so set on them."

"Her brother's wife is sick," said Mrs. Jenkins. "We haven't had any
frost this spring, and I suppose Octavia never thought of such a
thing. She'll feel awful bad if her flowers get frosted, especially
them dahlias. Octavia sets such store by her dahlias."

Mrs. Jenkins and Mrs. Reid moved away, leaving Tommy by the paling. It
was cold--there was going to be a hard frost--and Miss Octavia's
plants and flowers would certainly be spoiled. Tommy thought he