"It's all a riddle to me," Miss Sophia answered, although her words betrayed a rising interest.
"Aye, a foine riddle, to be sure, an' one that has its answer in the face of Doctor Dodona."
Sophia Piper's pallid face suddenly changed color, and she frowned irritably. Nancy sat down on the foot of the bed and took the sick woman's hand in her own long, hardened fingers.
"Ye must get well soon, dearie; the doctor's fair beside himself thinkin' he might lose ye, an' he can scarce compose himself long enough to mix his own medicines. He's a lonely man; can't ye see it, child?"
"Do you think so?" Miss Sophia whispered, wonderingly.
"It's not a matter o' thinkin', it's the rale truth, so it is. What is that rhyme I hear the young ones say, 'Somethin' borrowed, somethin' blue, somethin' old and somethin' new'? May I be somethin' old at yer weddin'?" Nancy asked, tenderly.
Miss Sophia drew the old woman's hand to her cheek and kissed it affectionately.
'Twas after the above conversation that Sophia Piper began to evince a determined desire to recover her health.
"Will the doctor be here this afternoon?" she asked.
"Ye couldn't kape him away. He's bringin' a friend wi' him, too," Nancy vouchsafed.