“All right,” she answered, after a moment’s hesitation; “I only wanted to tell you about Leola. Doctor Barnes says she is not dead, after all, and he is bringing her around; do you hear?”
“Yes, I hear, Jessie. Now go away, like a good girl; I cannot be disturbed,” he assured her, turning back to Joslyn in time to see him lift Chester Olyphant’s body and let it fall through the opening in the floor.
CHAPTER XII.
A WAYSIDE FLOWER.
“Look in my face; my name is Might-have-been;
I am also called No-more, Too-late, Farewell.”
Leola sat up in bed among the white covers, scarcely whiter than her face, and smiled wanly into Miss Tuttle’s anxious eyes.
“I am sorry that I am better. I wish I had died,” she said, bitterly.
For twenty-four hours she had been threatened with brain fever, but now the crisis had passed, and she was improving.
Doctor Barnes, who had been very uneasy all this time, had said just now she would soon be well—that her youth and fine constitution had tided her safely over the danger point.