"No you ain't sorry either. And my head aches awfully, and I feel sick. I wish I was at home."
For answer, Mrs. Grey took her by the hand, led her up to her room, applied remedies with tenderness, and sympathy, and skill, and at last helped her to undress and go to bed. She slept better than she had done for weeks; had some beef-tea for her breakfast, and the devil of indigestion was exorcised, for the time.
Laura was going home now; she and the children were now quite well, and Harry could stand his loneliness no longer.
"Mag and I had delightful times together while you were gone," she said, as she took leave, "and if she gets out of the tangle of all those lessons, I shall want her to make me a good long visit. You will have your hands so full with Gabrielle that you won't miss her. Mamma—"
"Well, dear."
"I wish I hadn't been such a bad child."
"You weren't bad. You had fits of ill-humor that I did not understand, and therefore mismanaged; I know now that indigestion often lies at the bottom of what looks like moral delinquency in children. Keep them well, and they'll keep themselves good-humored."
"Oh, I'm careful enough about Pug and Trot, as need be!"
"It's enough to make them ill to call them by such hideous names."