"I hope we have done everything he told us to do," said Molly.
"Oh yes! I feel so much better. Do you know, late as it is, I think you might go to Mrs. Goodenough's yet? Maria could take you, and I should like to see you dressed; when one has been wearing dull warm gowns for a week or two one gets quite a craving for bright colours, and evening dress. So go and get ready, dear, and then perhaps you'll bring me back some news, for really, shut up as I have been with only papa and you for the last fortnight, I've got quite moped and dismal, and I can't bear to keep young people from the gaieties suitable to their age."
"Oh, pray, mamma! I had so much rather not go!"
"Very well! very well! Only I think it is rather selfish of you, when you see I am so willing to make the sacrifice for your sake."
"But you say it is a sacrifice to you, and I don't want to go."
"Very well; did I not say you might stop at home? only pray don't chop logic; nothing is so fatiguing to a sick person."
Then they were silent for some time. Mrs. Gibson broke the silence by saying, in a languid voice—
"Can't you think of anything amusing to say, Molly?"
Molly pumped up from the depths of her mind a few little trivialities which she had nearly forgotten, but she felt that they were anything but amusing, and so Mrs. Gibson seemed to feel them; for presently she said—
"I wish Cynthia was at home." And Molly felt it as a reproach to her own dulness.