The few days passed, but Clematis was not better.
At night she was restless, and slept little. Even when she did sleep, her slumber was disturbed by bad dreams.
She talked to herself during these dreams, though people couldn’t understand what she said.
Doctor Field came to see her every day or two, but he could not tell what her sickness was. He always said:
“Just give her the medicine as directed, and she will be better soon.”
Miss Rose had asked Mrs. Snow if she might take care of her, for she had come to love little Clematis, and Clematis loved her in return.
The school work did not take her time very much now, so Mrs. Snow was glad to let Miss Rose care for Clematis.
If she stayed away very long, Clematis would call for her. She wanted her in the room.
“Mrs. Snow,” said Miss Rose, one day, after Clematis had been ill more than two weeks, “I am very anxious about Clematis.”
“Is she no better?”