"My dear Constance," said her mother, "Miss Ringgan's cheeks will stand a much better chance if you come away and leave her in peace. How can she get well with such a chatter in her ears."
"Mr. Carleton and I, mamma, are conferring upon measures of relief,--and Miss Ringgan gives token of improvement already."
"For which I am very little to be thanked," said Mr. Carleton. "But I am not a bringer of bad news, that she should look pale at the sight of me."
"Are you a bringer of any news?" said Constance, "O do let us have them, Mr. Carleton!--I am dying for news--I haven't heard a bit to-day."
"What is the news, Mr. Carleton?" said her mother's voice, from the more distant region of the fire.
"I believe there are no general news, Mrs. Evelyn."
"Are there any particular news?" said Constance.--"I like particular news infinitely the best!"
"I am sorry, Miss Constance, I have none for you. But--will this headache yield to nothing?"
"Fleda prophesied that it would to time," said Florence;--"she Would not let us try much beside."
"And I must confess there has been no volatile agency employed at all," said Constance;--"I never knew time have less of it; and Fleda seemed to prefer him for her physician."