lked enough.

CHAPTER XL.

ATTENTIONS.

It was days before Lois went down-stairs. She seemed indeed to be in no
hurry. Her room was luxuriously comfortable; Madge tended her there,
and Mrs. Wishart visited her; and Lois sat in her great easy-chair, and
rested, and devoured the delicate meals that were brought her; and the
colour began gently to come back to her face, in the imperceptible
fashion in which a white Van Thol tulip takes on its hues of crimson.
She began to read a little; but she did not care to go down-stairs.
Madge told her everything that went on; who came, and what was said by
one and another. Mr. Dillwyn's name was of very frequent occurrence.

"He's a real nice man!" said Madge enthusiastically.

"Madge, Madge, Madge!--you mustn't speak so," said Lois. "You must not
say 'real nice.'"

"I don't, down-stairs," said Madge, laughing. "It was only to you. It
is more expressive, Lois, sometimes, to speak wrong than to speak
right."

"Do not speak so expressively, then."

"But I must, when I am speaking of Mr. Dillwyn. I never saw anybody so
nice. He is teaching me to play chess, Lois, and it is such fun."

"It seems to me he comes here very often."

"He does; he is an old friend of Mrs. Wishart's, and she is as glad to
see him as I am."

"Don't be too glad, Madge. I do not like to hear you speak so."

"Why not?"

"It was one of the reasons why I did not want to accept Mrs. Barclay's
invitation last winter, that I knew he would be visiting her
constantly. I did not expect to see him _here_ much." Lois looked grave.

"What harm in seeing him, Lois? why shouldn't one have the pleasure?
For it is a pleasure; his talk is so bright, and his manner is so very
kind and graceful; and _he_ is so kind. He is going to take me to drive
again."

"You go to drive with Mrs. Wishart. Isn't that enough?"

"It isn't a quarter so pleasant," Madge said, laughing again. "Mr.
Dillwyn talks, something one likes to hear talked. Mrs. Wishart tells
me about old families, and where they used to live, and where they live
now; what do I care about old New York families! And Mr. Dillwyn lets
_me_ talk. I never have anything whatever to say to Mrs. Wishart; she
does it all."

"I would rather have you go driving with her, though."

"Why, Lois? That's ridiculous. I like to go with Mr. Dillwyn."

"Don't like it too well."

"How can I like it too well?"

"So much that you would miss it, when you do not h