"I'm not hungry, mother."
"That's only because you're fretting so; and what's the use? Mr. Travilla's better off; and besides he was nothing to you."
"Nothing to me! O mother! he was so good, so kind to me, to Dick, to everybody about him. He treated me like a daughter, and I loved him as well as if he had been my own father. He did not forget you or me when he was dying, mother."
"No; and it was good of him. Still, crying doesn't do any good; and you'll get weak and sick if you don't eat."
Molly's only answer was a burst of grief. "Oh poor, poor Cousin Elsie! her heart must be quite broken, for she idolized her husband. And the girls and all of them; how they did love their father!"
The servant came in with a plate of hot cakes, and a slender girlish figure presently stole softly after, without knocking, for the door stood open, and to the side of Molly's chair. It was Violet, looking, oh so sad and sweet, so fair and spiritual in her deep mourning dress.
In an instant she and Molly were locked in each other's arms, mingling their sobs and tears together.
"I'm afraid we have seemed to neglect you, Molly dear," Violet said when she could speak, "but—"
"No, no, you have never done that!" cried Molly, weeping afresh. "And how could I expect you to think of me at such a time! O Vi, Vi!"
"Mamma cannot come up, for she is not—not able to leave her room, and—and O Molly, I'm afraid she's going to be sick!"