y of
being "a fine girl." She was now lying on the faded sofa of the pretty
little drawing-room, the once elegant furniture of which had been
gradually growing shabby, under the influence of four summers and two
children; and, on Anne's appearing, greeted her with--

"So, you are come at last! I began to think I should never see you. I
am so ill I can hardly speak. I have not seen a creature the whole
morning!"

"I am sorry to find you unwell," replied Anne. "You sent me such a
good account of yourself on Thursday!"

"Yes, I made the best of it; I always do: but I was very far from well
at the time; and I do not think I ever was so ill in my life as I have
been all this morning: very unfit to be left alone, I am sure.
Suppose I were to be seized of a sudden in some dreadful way, and not
able to ring the bell! So, Lady Russell would not get out. I do not
think she has been in this house three times this summer."

Anne said what was proper, and enquired after her husband. "Oh!
Charles is out shooting. I have not seen him since seven o'clock. He
would go, though I told him how ill I was. He said he should not stay
out long; but he has never come back, and now it is almost one. I
assure you, I have not seen a soul this whole long morning."

"You have had your little boys with you?"

"Yes, as long as I could bear their noise; but they are so unmanageable
that they do me more harm than good. Little Charles does not mind a
word I say, and Walter is growing quite as bad."

"Well, you will soon be better now," replied Anne, cheerfully. "You
know I always cure you when I come. How are your neighbours at the
Great House?"

"I can give you no account of them. I have not seen one of them
to-day, except Mr Musgrove, who just stopped and spoke through the
window, but without getting off his horse; and though I told him how
ill I was, not one of them have been near me. It did not happen to
suit the Miss Musgroves, I suppose, and they never put themselves out
of their way."

"You will see them yet, perhaps, before the morning is gone. It is
early."

"I never want them, I assure you. They talk and laugh a great deal too
much for me. Oh! Anne, I am so very unwell! It was quite unkind of
you not to come on Thursday."

"My dear Mary, recollect what a comfortable account you sent me of
yourself! You wrote in the cheerfullest manner, and said you were
perfectly well, and in no hurry for me; and that being