"Well, Marie, how goes it?" asked Doctor Fenn. He had come in at the long window on the verandah, which the warm afternoon allowed to be open, and sat down beside Marion.
"Pretty well, I believe," said Marion, rather wearily. "How are they at Amity's? I suppose you have come from there?"
For Bessy had distinguished herself and added to the family hospital by catching the measles, and of course the other children had followed her example.
"Oh, they are doing well. Nobody is sick enough to stay in bed but Betsy, and she will be out in a day or two. How are the hands?"
"I think they are better. I can hold a book a little while now," answered Marion.
"Better not try them too much," pronounced the doctor. "Slow and sure is the best cure for a sprain."
There was a little silence, and then the doctor asked rather abruptly, as his fashion was,—
"Sissy, what's the matter?"
Marion was silent.
"I don't want to pry into your secrets, my dear," said the doctor, gently, "but it does seem to me as if you had something on your mind that troubles you. Perhaps, if you can make up your mind to tell me what it is, I can lighten or help you to bear it. Can't you?"