“I can't,” said Hilda coolly. “I'm in for it now and must go on to the bitter end. It's too late to chew the cud of reflection.”
“Don't count on the end,” laughed Nannie, looking at her friend's rotund figure. “There's no end to you, Hilda. You're an all-round woman.”
“Indeed I am! If you could only see the number of offices I fill. I'm nurse, doctor, valet, messenger, and on cross days general vent for the humors.”
“Is he really ill?”
“Oh, I don't know. He has dyspepsia. I guess he don't feel any too well, and nothing pleases him. He took a notion that a sea voyage would cure him, and it didn't. He snarled and snapped all the way, and oh, I was so sick—ugh! and I had to drag myself around after him. Then next he tried the German baths. He's tried everything, and now—oh, now,” she continued with a groan, putting her handkerchief to her face, “he says that society is injurious to him. And what do you suppose he has done?” she asked, raising her voice and peering from above the handkerchief which she had pressed to her face. “He's rented a lonely cabin in the Adirondacks for a year—a year! and there I'm to live! Imagine me, my dear! I shall grow so rusty that when I return to civilization I shall only be able to hang on the back door and creak while others are talking. Mercy upon us! there's DeLancy! He'll find me visiting! I'll never hear the last of this as long as I live! Where can I go? What can I get under? Oh, there's nothing big enough in all the world to cover me! Woe is me! I must always remain in the open!”
“Lie down there,” said Nannie authoritatively. “I'll cover you.”
“You!” screamed Hilda. “You! Oh, you elf! you brownie! you mite—you widow's mite! What could you cover?”
“Lie down! Be quick! The enemy approaches!” cried Nannie, convulsed with laughter.
Hilda gave one glance from out the window and then fell flat on the divan.
“I am lost!” she groaned.