"Very."
"You must miss her," said poor Harrie, trembling; she was very weak yet.
The Doctor knocked away the cricket, folded his wife's two shadowy hands into his own, and said:—
"Harrie we have no strength to waste, either of us, upon a scene; but I am sorry, and I love you."
She broke all down at that, and, dear me! they almost had a scene in spite of themselves. For O, she had always known what a little goose she was; and Pauline never meant any harm, and how handsome she was, you know! only she didn't have three babies to look after, nor a snubbed nose either, and the sachet powder was only American, and the very servants knew, and, O Myron! she had wanted to be dead so long, and then—
"Harrie!" said the Doctor, at his wit's end, "this will never do in the world. I believe—I declare!—Miss Hannah!—I believe I must send you to bed."
"And then I'm SUCH a little skeleton!" finished Harrie, royally, with a great gulp.
Dr. Sharpe gathered the little skeleton all into a heap in his arms,—it was a very funny heap, by the way, but that doesn't matter,—and to the best of my knowledge and belief he cried just about as hard as she did.
The Tenth of January.
The city of Lawrence is unique in its way.