Berty got up and was about to leave the veranda, when Mrs. Travers went on. “Will you send for Bonny, too?”
“Oh, Grandma, don’t you feel well?” asked Berty, in increasing anxiety.
“Just at present I do, dear,” and her voice was so clear, her manner so calm, that Berty was reassured until her next remark.
“Berty, where is Tom this afternoon?”
“Oh, Grandma, he was going to Bangor on business. He is just about getting to the station now.”
“Will you send for him, too?”
“Send for him?” faltered Berty. “Oh, Grandma, you are ill. You must be ill.”
“Do I look ill?”
“Oh, no, no,” said Berty, in despair. “You don’t look ill, your face is like an angel’s, but you frighten me.”