“Well, I am not going to keep you up. I want you to go right to sleep.” This remark showed great consideration on Caro’s part, for she had been counting on one of those confidential talks which girls so love to indulge in at bedtime, but her love rose above her desire, and she left her friend without the prolonged good-night that would have pleased her.
But Ellen did not go right to sleep. In this first quiet moment her thoughts rioted. There was so much to consider, to plan, to execute. Uppermost was the consideration of Miss Rindy’s position. It was all so difficult. For all the doctor had told her not to worry, she knew that she must, for no one could realize so well what debt meant to Miss Rindy. “Of course we can scrimp and save,—we shall have to,—but it will be a long, uphill pull. If only I could think of some way to earn enough.”
She lay with wide-open eyes, staring into the dark; then all at once she sat up, as a brilliant idea came to her. “Of course,” she exclaimed, “that would fix it. Why didn’t I think of it before?” Then she lay down, turned over, and in a few minutes was fast asleep.
CHAPTER XI
THE VIOLIN
There was no lying abed for Ellen the next morning. There were things to be done, and to be done quickly, so she lost no time in getting ready immediately after breakfast to go to her cousin’s house.
“I don’t see why you are in such a hurry,” complained Caro. “If you will wait a while, I can go with you. Mother wants to try on the dress I am to wear to Florence’s party this evening. Of course you will go, Ellen.”
“Oh, but I am not invited.”
“That is because Florence didn’t know you would be here. When she knows you are visiting me of course she will expect you.”
Ellen shook her head. “I don’t think so. Moreover, I really don’t feel in the humor for going; I am tired after all the excitement of the past week.”