Bother! there was mother calling. But mothers must be obeyed, and Missy had to trudge dutifully indoors—with a tablet still blank.
Next morning mother's warning about catching cold fulfilled itself. Missy awoke with a head that felt as big as a washtub, painfully laborious breath, and a wild impulse to sneeze every other minute. Mother, who was an ardent advocate of “taking things in time,” ordered a holiday from school and a footbath of hot mustard water.
“This all comes from your mooning out there in the summerhouse so late,” she chided as, with one tentative finger, she made a final test of the water for her daughter's feet.
She started to leave the room.
“Oh, mother!”
“Well?” Rather impatiently Mrs. Merriam turned in the doorway.
“Would you mind handing me my tablet and pencil?”
“What, there in the bath?”
“I just thought”—Missy paused to sneeze—“maybe I might get an inspiration or something, and couldn't get out to write it down.”
“You're an absurd child.” But when she brought the tablet and pencil, Mrs. Merriam lingered to pull the shawl round Missy's shoulders a little closer; Missy always loved mother to do things like this it was at such times she felt most keenly that her mother loved her.