“See here! I’ve thought of something,” said Jimmy, touched by Edith’s distress. “If Lucy did swallow some, can’t they give her something to cure it? Mamma could, I guess, or Dr. Devoll.”
“Why, I never thought of that,” returned Edith, gathering courage.
“Now, Lucy, you will be willing to take a pill when we get home if mamma thinks it’s best?”
Lucy wasn’t quite sure. She thought it would depend somewhat upon the size of the pill, also upon the sort of jelly it was offered in.
“Oh, how she does act sometimes!” sighed Edith. “Now, Lucy, you stay out here with the dog and Jimmy; you stay out here till I come back.”
Lucy consented.
It was a red-eyed, broken-hearted little girl who entered Mr. Hall’s store and asked for blue sewing-silk. You would hardly have known her for happy Edith Dunlee.
“Oh, no, sir,” she said when a spool was offered her. “Not silk; thread. She wants to sew it!” The salesman looked surprised, then amused, then sorry; for by this time Edith had begun to cry again.
“Wouldn’t it be well, little miss, for you to go home now, and come back again when you know your errand.”