Yes, for three whole days Susan had been in bed. But to-day she meant not only to be up and dressed, but to go downstairs as well, for to-day was Thanksgiving Day, and to stay in bed on such an occasion was something Susan didn’t intend to do.
Four days ago Susan and Grandfather had come home from Banbury. They had arrived late in the evening, and Susan, tired out, had fallen asleep in her chair at the dinner-table, and had been carried up to bed without telling Grandmother a single word about her visit or even presenting her with the stocking-darner which she had carried in her hand all the way home from Letty’s house.
Of the next two days all Susan could remember was a sharp pain and a big black bottle of medicine, with occasional glimpses of Grandmother and Grandfather tiptoeing about the darkened room.
But yesterday Susan had felt more like herself. She had enjoyed cuddling the shawl baby, she had eaten a plate of milk toast for her dinner, and she had given Grandmother a complete history of her visit from the moment she left Featherbed Lane until her return.
She had asked to see Flip, but Grandmother had said mysteriously that Flip, in her turn, had gone visiting, and that she wouldn’t be back until dinner-time Thanksgiving Day.
“When is Thanksgiving Day?” Susan had asked.
“To-morrow,” Grandmother had answered, and Susan had sprung up in bed with a cry.
“Won’t I be well to-morrow?” she asked imploringly. “Won’t I be well for Thanksgiving Day?”
Grandmother at this moment was shaking the big black medicine bottle. It did seem to Susan that it was always medicine time, though Grandmother said it was marked on the bottle “To be taken every two hours.”
Mrs. Whiting smiled at her tone of despair.