“Fanny!” said mamma in mild reproof.
“I know what she would be excellently fitted for,” replied Miss Churchill, quickly. “And that emboldens me to offer my plea, or, rather, my sister’s. But how thoughtless I am! Mrs. Endicott, I did not hear of your added burden and anxiety until a few days ago. I am sincerely sorry that you should have had so much trouble outside of your own family, as the serious illness of this young Duncan.”
“Yes, it has been rather unfortunate; but we are through the worst, I hope. Mr. Endicott is guardian for these boys.”
“He is extremely kind and conscientious, I am sure. But I can hardly understand how you manage, with all the rest of your work. There comes Kenton and the carriage, and I feel as if I had not made half a call.”
“I am sure you need not hurry,” exclaimed mamma, who had warmed wonderfully towards our visitor. “And you had something to ask—for your sister.”
“O, I am positively ashamed to. I ought to help instead of hindering.”
“Ask it, nevertheless,” said mamma.
“I told Lucy that I was going to call here; and, as I said, she was feeling quite dispirited and lonesome. ‘Give them all my kindest regards,’ she said, ‘and ask Mrs. Endicott if she cannot spare one of the girls to spend the day with me. I’d like to have the one who talks a good deal.’ Is it a compliment to you, Miss Fanny?”
Fan blushed scarlet.
“I was thinking, a few moments ago, that you, with your bright spirits, would be invaluable to invalids. But I suppose you can hardly spare her out of your sick room.” And she glanced at mamma.