Tom tried faithfully not to be any trouble, and succeeded pretty well. And Mrs. Merriam’s ankle got better, slowly, as bad sprains do. Presently she was well enough to be taken in a wheel chair to see her friends. She usually went to spend the day.
One day everything seemed particularly calm and serene. Tom had wheeled the mother to the other end of town, early in the morning, and she was going to be taken for a long automobile ride by one of her friends. Tom had taken a pocketful of sandwiches, and gone off for a fishing-trip. So Winona built a mound of more sandwiches for herself and Florence, and prepared to take a day off.
She was curled up on the front porch in a hammock, reading, when the first thing occurred.
“Does Miss Winona Merriam live here?” inquired a familiar voice; and Winona, looking up, saw Louise, dusty and beaming.
“Oh, Louise, you angel! How lovely it is to see you!” she said, jumping up and hugging her friend.
“Yes, isn’t it?” said Louise, hugging back. “I came down on the train, and I’m here to spend the day, if you want me.”
“Want you! I should think I did!” said Winona. “Come in and get cool.”
“I’m not hot,” said Louise, “but I would like a drink of water.”
They were in the kitchen, fussing about pleasurably together, when they heard steps clattering up the porch.
“It’s the ice-man,” said Winona. “I must pay him.”