"You? O, that's delightful. I have been puzzling my brain to know how I should manage; for I am not fit to go out yet, and servants are so unsatisfactory. Will you really? That's good of you!"
"Not at all. It is the least I can do. The family received me most kindly on more than one occasion; and I would gladly do them a greater service than this."
At two o'clock next day the waiting-room of the New Haven station held, among others, two very handsome young girls; who kept close together, waiting for their summons to the train. One of them was very pale and thin and feeble-looking, and indeed sat so that she leaned part of her weight upon her sister. Madge was pale too, and looked somewhat anxious. Both pairs of eyes watched languidly the moving, various groups of travellers clustered about in the room.
"Madge, it's like a dream!" murmured the one girl to the other.
"What? If you mean this crowd, my dreams have more order in them."
"I mean, being away from Esterbrooke, and off a sick-bed, and moving, and especially going to—where we are going. It's a dream!"
"Why?"
"Too good to be true. I had thought, do you know, I never should make a visit there again."
"Why not, Lois?"
"I thought it would be best not. But now the way seems clear, and I can take the fun of it. It is clearly right to go."