"Yes," assented Arthur; "but the bother is we don't know that papa can get away; and it makes it ten times hotter to think we shall have to bear this for another six weeks."
"Perhaps the weather will change," suggested a quiet, pretty girl, who sat working in the darkest corner of the room.
"It won't, Nellie; you see if it does!" said Arthur scornfully. "Not if we're to stay in town!"
Nellie looked down for a moment at the face of her half-brother, as if she were going to speak; but she did not, and went on with her work.
"I cannot think how you can work, Nellie, when we are all dying of heat," said Ada, grumbling.
While Arthur raised his eyes to the gentle face, and said lazily, "Yes; why do you work, Nell?"
"I have tried both ways," said Nellie, "and I find I am less weary and miserable when I have something to do. And besides—"
"Well?" said Arthur lazily.
"I was thinking just now of what papa told us this morning, and that helped me to—"
"Bear the heat patiently? It didn't me, I can tell you, Nell. To be shut up in a top attic, with the sun next door to you, and not a breath of air; and to be ill of fever, and no fruit, and no cool water; and no chance of country when you were better; and no friends to care whether you lived or died; and no work and no comfort; and no end to it all? No; I don't see that thinking of that, helps one to feel less hot and cross!"