"Yes, I think I am—a little bit. A little sister of mine died years ago, and I saw her after they put her into her coffin. She did not look like anybody else I had ever seen. I could not get her face out of my head for a long time."
"I wouldn't look at a dead person for the world," said Susan. "Oh, I do hope she won't die! I think I shall lose my senses if she does."
"She's good, you know," said Maud after a pause. "She's not a bit like either you or me. We made her very unhappy."
"We certainly did," said Susan. "She seemed so astonished; although, of course, what she did was——"
"What did she do?"
"I wish I could tell you; it would relieve my mind. Oh, how badly my head aches!"
"Do tell me, dear Susy; I am dying of curiosity. I can't help it; it is one of my failings."
"No, I won't, Maud: I could not bear it now that she is so ill. It is bad enough to have her like this without betraying her as well."
"Of course, if you won't," said Maud, and the two girls lay silent.