“Afraid—of what, dear?”

“Doing something.”

“Something that ought to be done, Elizabeth?”

“I don’t think it really—ought to be done, Grandmother.”

“Then it isn’t a question of mere right, or wrong, dear?”

“I don’t think so, Grandmother.”

“Is it physical fear?”

“I—think so.”

“Who is the person, Elizabeth?”

“Me, Grandmother,” Blue Bonnet answered, with more frankness than grammar.