It was still snowing when Blue Bonnet woke the next morning. Down below, the hall clock was striking nine. It was a good thing that it was Saturday, Blue Bonnet thought; she felt stiff and tired. She wondered if Aunt Lucinda had been kept in town by the storm. Aunt Lucinda would have the right to be vexed with her this time; Blue Bonnet moved restlessly—she didn’t want to think about last night. Why, someone must have slept over there on her lounge! Surely, Grandmother hadn’t—Aunt Lucinda was coming upstairs now.
“Have you been awake long, Blue Bonnet?” Miss Lucinda asked. She sat down on the side of the bed, laying a hand over the one Blue Bonnet held out to her; she looked grave, but not at all—lectury, Blue Bonnet decided.
“I only just woke up, I’ll get right up,” the girl said.
Miss Lucinda shook her head. “Breakfast first, and then—if the doctor says you may—we’ll talk about the getting up.”
“But I don’t need the doctor!” Blue Bonnet protested.
She had little appetite for the daintily prepared breakfast Miss Lucinda brought her presently. “I ought not to have these dishes this morning,” she insisted, touching the pretty sprigged cup and saucer,—“I ought not to have anything nice.”
Miss Lucinda smiled. “Dr. Clark has been known to give very unpleasant doses; it is possible that he may give you something very far from nice.”
“I hope he says I may get up,” Blue Bonnet said. “I hate lying in bed.”
“Then it should prove excellent discipline,” Miss Lucinda suggested, shaking out her pillow and making her comfortable in a way Blue Bonnet found very pleasant.
“Did you sleep in here on the lounge last night, Aunt Lucinda?” she asked.