time to go back in the afternoon, so she could never stay long with
Ruth. She came bustling in, looking very strong, and speaking in a loud
cheerful voice, and all the while she was there she gave quick glances
round her at everything in the room. Ruth was well enough to be up, and
was sitting in a big chair by the nursery fire, with picture-books and
toys near; but she was not looking at them. Her eyes were fixed
thoughtfully on the fire, and her mind was full of the kitchen cat. She
had tried to write to it, but the words would not come, and her fingers
trembled so much that she could not hold the pencil straight. The
vexation and disappointment of this had made her head ache, and
altogether she presented rather a mournful little figure.

"Well, Nurse, and how are we going on?" said Aunt Clarkson, sitting down
in the chair Nurse placed for her. Remembering her dream, Ruth could not
help giving a glance at Aunt Clarkson's hands. They were fat, round
hands, and she kept them doubled up, so that they really looked rather
like a cat's paws.

"Well, ma'am," replied Nurse, "Miss Ruth's better; but she's not, so to
say, as cheerful as I could wish. Still a few _fancies_ ma'am," she
added in an undertone, which Ruth heard perfectly.

"Fancies, eh?" repeated Aunt Clarkson in her most cheerful voice. "Oh,
we shall get rid of them at Summerford. You'll have real things to play
with there, Ruth, you know. Lucy, and Cissie, and Bobbie will be better
than fancies, won't they?"

Ruth gave a faint little nod. She did not know what her aunt meant by
"fancies". The cat was quite as real as Lucy, or Cissie, or Bobbie.
Should she ask her about it, or did she hate cats like Nurse Smith? She
gazed wistfully at Mrs. Clarkson's face, who had now drawn a list from
her pocket, and was running through the details half aloud with an
absorbed frown.

"I shall wait and see the doctor, Nurse," she said presently; "and if he
comes soon I shall _just_ get through my business, and catch the three
o'clock express."

No, it would be of no use, Ruth concluded, as she let her head fall
languidly back against the pillow--Aunt Clarkson was far too busy to
think about the cat.

Fortunately for her business, the doctor did not keep her waiting long.
Ruth was better, he said, and all she wanted now was cheering up a
little--she looked dull and moped. "If she could have a little friend,
now, to see her, or a cheerful companion," glancing at Nurse Smith