How could Dodo tell? How could even poor, white-faced Aunt Jane tell, who came at once to nurse her darling daughter. She had to wait like all the rest.
Do you know how hard it is to wait? Do you know how long that week was to Flaxie, with the dreary days coming and going, and still no change for the better?
No: you do not know, unless you, too, have had a friend who was very sick.
And the aching that was at Flaxie's heart, the yearning she felt to throw her arms round her little cousin's neck and beg forgiveness!
Ah! you can not even guess at that unless you, too, have been unkind to a dear friend who may possibly be going to die.
THE WEE WHITE ROSE.
No need now to caution Flaxie not to make a noise. She crept about the house as still as a shadow, with an old, heartbroken look on her childish face, pitiful to see.