Kittie and Kat, found that snatching moments from work, to take a race down the yard, or gather some particular cluster of fresh young blossoms, gave dish-water a chance to cool; or dust, left ready for taking up, to blow back to all corners of the room. Meals began to fall behind, but everybody was too warm and listless to eat much, or mind the tardiness. In short, everybody had the spring fever, but such ordinary complaint was not noticed, until, as the heat grew more debilitating, Bea said to her mother one evening, as they stood in the door, looking out into the soft still moonlight that lay so purely over the fresh early grass and blossoms:—"Mama, seems to me Ernestine is not well."
Bea could not understand why her mother should start so, at such a slight intimation, or why her face should look so anxious as she turned it.
"Why, dear?"
"She lies down so much; it may be because the weather has turned warm so suddenly, but seems to me, she is so pale and quiet, and it is something so unusual, that I couldn't help but notice it; but then, may be, it's nothing after all."
"Only the weather, I fancy," answered Mrs. Dering; but Bea saw that she looked uneasy, and that all that evening she watched Ernestine, who lay on the lounge, more lively than she had been for several days, with a sparkling light in her eyes, and a rich color in her face, that made her more beautiful than mother or sisters had ever seen her before. Bea watched her mother with some anxiety and no little curiosity. How sad and troubled her eyes looked, as they rested on Ernestine's radiant face, while every now and then a tremble seized her lips, even while she smiled at the continual merry nonsense that seemed to possess the girls that night.
"Ernestine's going to run away," announced Kittie, presently, with some abruptness; but no one but Bea, who was on the alert, saw how her mother started, with a force that ran her needle clear under her thumb nail, or how excessively pale she was as she wiped off the little drops of blood.
"That I am," laughed Ernestine gayly. "Some of these fine mornings I'll be gone, and you'll find a touching little note on my pin-cushion; and after I've earned piles of glory and money, I'll come back in an elegant carriage, and set you all up in luxury."
Everybody laughed, and professed much impatience for the delightful time to arrive; but Mrs. Dering pushed her sewing aside with an impatient hand that trembled, and proposed that Ernestine sing for them, which she immediately did, with a bewildering bird-like witchery, that held them all entranced, and made the girls sigh more than once, that some of the flute-like tones had not been given to them, as their talent.
Mrs. Dering's last look and words, when she left next morning, were for Ernestine, who looked languid and pale in the sunshine, with all her radiant sparkle and color gone, and no sound or look of song about her lips; and after the hack had gone, and the girls returned to the house, Kat said to Kittie, with much resentment in her voice:
"Ernestine always was the petted one in this family. Just see how anxious mama is about her having a little spring fever, and what an easy time she has, anyhow. Only two music scholars! I guess we've got the spring fever just as bad as she has, but we have to work just as hard as ever, and I don't think it is fair."