Peggy stared, "Matter! You know that since that attack of inflammatory rheumatism she hasn't walked—"
"But I meant anything new."
"O, there's nothing new, not as far as I know. I haven't been in to see Mary since—O, dear, I'm afraid it's been an age."
"I only meant," explained Priscilla reasonably, "that if Mary's no worse off than she has been for the last year and a half, there's no especial point in taking to-day to go to see her. You could go any afternoon."
"I could," owned Peggy with a significant inflection.
"And it's such a perfect day to go after wild flowers."
Peggy looked from the window. The blue sky seemed to smile an invitation. Priscilla's argument all at once appeared unanswerable.
"Yes, isn't it lovely!" Peggy drew a long breath. "Too lovely to stay indoors. I'll go to see Mary some stormy afternoon when she needs cheering up."
And now that her decision was made, the thought of Mary Donaldson passed completely from Peggy's mind. She had never been particularly intimate with this class-mate, and had it not been for Mary's illness it is unlikely that the two girls would have seen much of each other after high school days. But the winter of Peggy's Freshman year, an attack of rheumatism had left Mary seriously crippled. Though now she was able to be dressed and to hobble from her bed to a chair by the window, getting downstairs was too difficult a process to be considered, except on very especial occasions. With all the yearnings for life and joy that characterize the normal girl, Mary was condemned to vibrate between her bed and chair.