Bettina, having hunted out a box of her own belongings, was trying different colored ribbons on the little lady's pale brown locks.
"Do you know, Letty, pink is your color? Yes, it is. Blue makes you look ghastly. Now I'm going to tie this twice around your head so that it will hide all the tight pigtails—I got that idea from Diana."
As she finished the somewhat elaborate process, there came steps outside.
"It's just me," said the voice of the little captain.
Bettina peeped through the door, and announced; "Miss Matthews is sick."
"I know. I met Anthony Blake, and he told me; and what I want to know is, can I do anything——?"
"Nothing—thanks."
"Yes, he can," said the hoarse voice of the invalid. "He can come in. If he doesn't mind my head, I shan't mind him."
The captain, entering, found Miss Matthews in a big chair, her feet covered by a steamer rug, her gray flannel apparel hidden by a white wool shawl which had belonged to Betty's mother, and topping all was the wonderful head-dress of rose-colored ribbon, beneath which Miss Matthews' plain little peaked face looked out wistfully.
"Well, now," said the captain, as he shook hands, "that pink becomes her, don't it?"