“Yes, I am, but you needn’t stay, I can get nursey to look after me. I will go when I am better; anyhow, I am not going to-day, so there.”
Mabel rushed at her sister, and felt her brow, and took her hot hand.
“I don’t believe you are so bad you can’t go. I wonder where father is? Oh, here you are, Clara. What do you think this tiresome Pen has gone and done?”
“What now?” said Clara. “Does she want father? He is at Newcastle. He won’t be back until late this evening. He bade us all good-bye. He asked for Pen, but as she was not about he sent his love to her.”
“I don’t want to go,” said Pen, “that’s all. I’m going to stay behind. I’m—I’m not well.”
“But what ails you? A headache?”
“Splitting,” said Pen.
“Pain in your back?”
“A bit.”
“Sore throat?”