ore came out, and pa said, "My little boy's
dead, come up," in a tired voice, or kind of hard, or somethin'.

Then there was the funeral. All the Miller children came and Zueline and
her mother, and lots of grown men who knew my father or loved Little
Billie for his own sake; and grandpa and grandma and Uncle Henry, and
John Armstrong drove clear in from his farm--only Mitch didn't come. And
I wasn't there, either, for now I had the diphtheria, too. Only they
told me about it; how Mr. Miller spoke so beautiful, how the tears
streamed down his face, as he talked, and how all the children cried.
And this was two days after Little Billie died, and I was out of my head
and havin' awful dreams.

At first when I took sick, I expected to die, of course, and I thought
about all my life, until I got cloudy and began to fly and talk wild. I
thought about all I was goin' to miss, never to see Mitch again, not to
see any more Christmases; but somehow, I didn't regret anything much I
had done and wasn't exactly afraid. I wasn't sorry about not likin'
Sunday School or anything--only it just seemed that I had never done
anything, or learned anything. We hadn't found the treasure--I had never
had a real friend but Mitch; I never loved a girl. I just seemed to
myself a shadow that had moved around seein' things, but not being seen,
and always alone and lonely, havin' my best times flyin' kites or when I
wasn't with Mitch. I didn't seem real to myself, and it got worse and
worse, until I got delirious and became a dozen boys, doin' every sort
of thing. And first thing I knew, my ma was feedin' me out of a spoon.
I was so weak I couldn't lift a hand. But I had come to and was on the
mend. It all seemed strange to wake up and find Little Billie gone and
remember back. Ma looked worn out and wouldn't answer questions about
Mitch or anything. I had been sick more'n two weeks, and all but died.
By and by I began to mend, and then I could sit up, and one day Mitch
came to see me. It was the first day I was dressed, and had begun to
walk a little.

CHAPTER XII

Ma brought Mitch in the room, and said: "Have a good visit now, for
we're goin' to send Skeet to the farm. He needs it, and I'm worn out.
Your grandpa is comin' on Saturday, and they want you out there for a
while, and it will do you good."

Mitch looked a minute and said: "I'll miss you, but there's nothing to
do here." Then when ma went out of the room, he said: "The jig's