Mrs. Nichols was not too ill to talk, and forthwith she commenced a history of her malady, beginning at the time she first had it when ’Lena’s mother was a year and a day old, frequently quoting Nancy Scovandyke, and highly entertaining Nellie, who listened until warned by the sound of the carriage, as it came round to the door, that she must go.
“We are going back to Uncle Atherton’s,” said she, “but I wanted to bid you good-bye, and ask you to visit me in Frankfort with your cousins. Will you do so?”
This was wholly unexpected to ’Lena, who, without replying, burst into tears. Nellie hardly knew what to do. She seldom cried herself—she did not like to see others cry—and still she did not blame ’Lena, for she felt that she could not help it. At last, taking her hand, she bade her farewell, asking if she should not carry a good-bye to the others.
“Yes, to Mabel,” said ’Lena.
“And not Durward?” asked Nellie.
With something of her old spirit ’Lena answered, “No, he hates me—Carrie says so.”
“Cad’s a fool,” muttered John Jr., while Nellie rejoined, “Durward never hated anybody, and even if he did, he would not say so—I mean to tell him;” and with another good-bye she was gone.
On the stairs she met Durward, who was looking for her, and asked where she had been.
“To bid ’Lena good-bye; don’t you want to go too?” said Nellie.
“Why, yes, if you are sure she won’t scratch my eyes out,” he returned, gayly, following his cousin.