"Why are you sitting in the dark? I have searched the house for you." She groped her way across the room, lighted the gas, and came to the window.
"What is the matter, child? Are you sick?"
"I think something must be the matter, for I do not feel at all like myself," stammered the orphan, as she hid her face on the window-sill.
"Does your head ache?"
"No, ma'am."
She might have said very truly that her heart did.
"Give me your hand, let me feel your pulse. It is very quick, but shows nervous excitement rather than fever. Child, let me see your tongue, I hear there are some typhoid cases in the neighborhood. Why, how hot your cheeks are!"
"Yes, I shall go up and bathe them, and perhaps I may feel better."
"I wish you would come into the parlor as soon as you can, for Estelle says Clinton thought you were very rude to him; and though I apologized on the score of indisposition, I prefer that you should make your appearance this evening. Stop, you have dropped your handkerchief."
Edna stooped to pick it up, saw Mr. Murray's name printed in one corner, and her first impulse was to thrust it into her pocket; but instantly she held it towards his mother.