T'S the first real warm night we've had isn't it?" said Mrs. Hollister conversationally. "I got to thinking about you to-night, Winnie, and I said to Mamie that I believed I'd come up and see you for a minute or two; I thought you might be glad to have a little help with the dishes or something."
Winnie, a tall gaunt woman, the gray hair on her temples hardly perceptible because of the ash-blondness of her tightly pulled hair, stood beside the kitchen table apparently figuring some problem on a slip of paper.
"My dishes are done," she said capably, "but sit down, do Mrs. Hollister; I'm not denying that I'm glad to see a friend after the day I've had."
Mrs. Hollister sank heavily into the cushioned rocker drawn up near the table and removed her cotton gloves.
"I said to Mamie I knew you'd be tuckered out," she observed. "Am I keeping you, Winnie—is that important?" she indicated the slip of paper in the other's hand.
"I can do it any time before to-morrow morning," Winnie explained. "It's the laundry list and I have about everything counted up. The man comes Wednesdays."
"Where are the girls?" asked the visitor, her quick eyes roving approvingly around the immaculate kitchen. "Did the poor lady get off safely?"
"The girls are in bed," said Winnie, taking the questions in order. "They were worn out and I told 'em bed was the best place for them to be. They've lost all their good sensible habits these last two weeks and it's glad I am the young doctor is going to be here to look after 'em. They need to be settled down if ever anybody did."
"And Mrs. Willis? She will really get well?" urged Mrs. Hollister.