"She could go to our house to stay," said Marjorie. She was still crying, but she loved to make plans. "Then she could telephone the lessons over to Delight, and I could learn a little too. Oh, I won't have to go to school for two weeks!"
This was a consolation, and the happy thought entirely stopped Marjorie's tears.
Not so Delight. She cried on, softly, but steadily, until Midget looked at her with real curiosity.
"What do you cry that way for, Delight?" she said. "It doesn't do any good."
Delight looked at her, but wept industriously on.
"Oh, come," said Midget, "let's look for the bright side. Let's pretend I've come to visit you for two weeks, and let's have some fun out of this thing."
"How can you talk so?" said Delight, through her tears. "We may both be dead in two weeks."
"Nonsense!" cried Doctor Mendel; "no more of that sort of talk! If you're so sure of having diphtheria, I'll send you to the hospital at once."
Delight did not know the doctor as well as Marjorie did, and this suggestion frightened her.
She tried to stop crying, and smile, and she succeeded fairly well.