"Amy, I believe you are growing thin."
She made the announcement jubilantly, expecting it to be received with enthusiasm, but Amy did not speak.
"Have you really left off eating candy?" continued Peggy, innocently interested. "Seems to me I haven't noticed any boxes of chocolates in your desk lately."
"I haven't been eating very much candy." Amy sighed so heavily that Peggy looked at her again. Amy had really lost flesh, but that was not all. About her hung an air of depression, as inconsistent with the normal Amy as hollow cheeks, or a total loss of appetite.
"Amy, I believe something is the matter. What is it?"
"You'd think it was silly." Amy's tone indicated a longing to confide her griefs, only restrained by a dread of being laughed at.
"Silly troubles are the very worst of all sometimes," Peggy declared comfortingly. "Go ahead, dear. Out with it."
For a moment Amy hesitated. Then her pent-up woes burst bounds.
"I'm not going to live through the year."
"What!" Peggy could not believe that she had heard aright. "What did you say? I didn't understand."