“Let me finish this chapter, Ann. Then we’ll drag out the box.”
Ann, who was through with lessons, or all that she felt equal to doing, threw her tired head back against the rocking chair in which she sat and closed her eyes. She knew now how girls felt when they were not strong, and she wondered if she had ever really appreciated her health. She was feeling well now, except for a little weakness and a “scratchy” throat. She opened her eyes a little to look at Marta, who was concentrating on that last chapter of her lesson. Her blue eyes were glued to the page of the book, which she held in one of the strong hands that could do so much with the piano keys.
Finally Marta closed the book with a bang and laid it on the table. “There!” she exclaimed. “I guess that is in my cranium, long enough to recite it at least. I never could remember history!” She ran her fingers through her already much ruffled brown locks. “Have an orange, Ann?”
“Thanks, Marta; I can wait on myself now, though. If you are ever sick, Marta, I’ll show my gratitude!”
“I shall not get sick for the benefit of your gratitude, Miss Sterling.”
“I hope not, Marta. I’ll have to show it in some other way.”
“Haven’t I eaten as many oranges as you, besides all the good desserts that they sent and you couldn’t eat?”
“I don’t know about that, Marta.”
“But I do. Please ‘say no more’ about gratitude. But, Ann, there is too much in this box to drag it out without spoiling the floor or the rug or something.” Marta was in one of the closets now.
“All right,—we’ll investigate, then.”