"I love this arbour," said Henry.
Lucy. "So do I; don't you remember, Henry, that we were sitting here once, thinking of poor Emily when she had the fever, when Mrs. Goodriche came to us and told us that Emily was so much better and the fever gone, and how glad we were, and how we jumped and screamed? Oh! that was a dreadful time."
"To me it was not dreadful," replied Emily; "I think I may say it was a happy time, Lucy, for I had thoughts put into my mind in that illness which make everything seem different to me ever since. You know what I mean, Lucy, I can't explain it."
Lucy. "I know what you mean, Emily."
Emily. "I never felt anything like that till I had the fever, so I call the fever a happy time."
"I wish you would not talk about it," said Henry; "Lucy and I were miserable then; were not we, Lucy?"
Mrs. Goodriche dined very early, and after dinner she and Mrs. Fairchild came into the arbour, and there she told the story which she had promised.