"You absurd child!" said Fleda,--"you haven't mended a bit. But I told Barby to put on the tea-kettle and I will administer a composing draught as soon as it can be got ready; we don't indulge in dinners here in the wilderness. Meanwhile suppose that exhausted nature try the support of this easy-chair?"
She put her visitor gently into it, and seating herself upon the arm held her hand and looked at her, with a smiling face and yet with eyes that were almost too gentle in their welcoming.
"My dear little Fleda!--you're as lovely as you can be! Are you glad to see me?"
"Very."
"Why don't you ask after somebody else?"
"I was afraid of overtasking your exhausted energies."
"Come and sit down here upon my lap!--you shall, or I won't say another word to you. Fleda! you've grown thin! what have you been doing to yourself?"
"Nothing, with that particular purpose."
"I don't care, you've done something. You have been insanely imagining that it is necessary for you to be in three or four places at the same time, and in the distracted effort after ubiquity you are in imminent danger of being nowhere--there's nothing left of you."
"I don't wonder you were overcome at the sight of me," said Fleda.