Doctor Wyatt came every day to look at his little sick girl, and laugh, and pat her cheeks.
“You just wait till you see the apple pies my aunt can make,” he would say.
“Tell me about the garden. Are there any lilacs?”
“No lilac blossoms now, little sister, but asters, and hollyhocks, and goldenrod. You just wait till you see them.”
Then the doctor would go out, with another laugh.
Soon Clematis got so well that she could sit up in bed.
Miss Rose would sit by the window, sewing, and sometimes she would read a story.
One afternoon she saw that Clematis was anxious about something. She had a little wrinkle in her forehead.
“What is it you are thinking about? Is there something you want?”