Miss Jackson moistened her lips. "Oh, my dear, I hope my letter was not too abrupt! You mustn't run ahead of trouble; our doctor is nervous about future possibilities if great care is not used—but your sister's lungs are sound so far, he thinks."
"Then I disagree with him," said Joan.
Miss Jackson felt a little shocked. Evidently this was a very sensible young woman, not to say almost heartless; still it was better than if she had broken down. "We all hope, we all believe, that Milly will soon be quite well again," she said, "but, as you know, I expect, she's rather frail. I should think that she must always have been delicate; and yet what a student! A wonderful student; they're all heart-broken at the College." There was real feeling in her voice as she continued: "I can't tell you what an admiration I have for your sister; her pluck is phenomenal; she's worked steadily, overworked in fact, up to the last."
Joan got up; she felt a little giddy and put her hand on the back of the chair to steady herself.
"My dear, wait, I must get you some sal-volatile!"
"Oh, no, no, please not; I really don't feel ill. I should like to go to Milly now and help her to collect her luggage, if I may."
"Of course; come with me."
They mounted interminable stairs to the rooms that Milly shared with Harriet. A sound of laughing reached them through the half-open door. It was Milly's laugh.
"She's very brave and cheerful, poor child," Miss Jackson whispered.
Joan followed her into the study.