eaving Elma to snoodle down on her pillows, with a
sigh of relief, while Cornelia lifted her skirt in both hands and danced
a pas seul, bowing low towards the doorway, blowing kisses from her
finger-tips the while, after the manner of riders in a circus.

She pranced and pirouetted, while Elma protested in shocked surprise.
It struck her that Cornelia's anxiety as to her own condition had died a
remarkably sudden death with the disappearance of Mrs Greville from the
room. A pantomimic display was not the best way to ensure quiet and
repose, nor was there much sympathy to be read in the expression of the
twinkling golden eyes. Elma found herself blushing before their gaze,
and guiltily drooping her lashes.

"Cornelia, what do you mean?"

"Columns, my dear, which sweet little buds like you ought to know
nothing about! You lie still, and look pretty, and ask no questions;
that's _your_ part in the play! You've got to remember that you've had
a shock, and your nervous system's all to pieces. You don't have no
pain, nor suffering, and anyone to look at you might think you were
quite robust; but just as soon as you make the least exertion, you're
all of a flop, and have to be waited on hand and foot!--That's so, isn't
it now!"

Elma's delicate brows were furrowed in her attempt to make out what
Cornelia _did_ mean, and what she didn't! There was a note in her voice
which did not ring true--a good-naturedly mocking note, which accorded
ill with the words themselves. She blushed still deeper, and put on an
air of wounded dignity.

"I certainly am very far from well. My head feels so light and
swimming. I should be very sorry to have to walk far at present.
Coming upstairs just now tried me horribly."

Cornelia clapped her hands in approval.

"Capital! capital! Keep it at that, and you can't do better. Go slow,
and don't try to mend all of a sudden. Even when you _do_ begin to buck
up, in a day or two's time, the very sight of a horse will set you
palpitating for all you're worth. You'll kind-er feel as if you'd
rather crawl home on all fours than sit behind the steadiest old nag
that was ever raised. It's three or four miles from home, isn't it, or
maybe more--much too far for an invalid to attempt, for a week at least.
Just a little saunter in the grounds will be all you're fit for this
side Sunday, _with someone to support you carefully as you go_! ...
You'll be apt to turn giddy if you go about alone. .