Good-by. I've had a lovely
time! Good-by," she called again, as she tripped through the
doorway.
"Well, I never! Now, what does she mean by that?" ejaculated Mrs.
Snow, staring after her visitor. By and by she turned her head
and picked up the mirror, eyeing her reflection critically.
"That little thing HAS got a knack with hair and no mistake," she
muttered under her breath. "I declare, I didn't know it could
look so pretty. But then, what's the use?" she sighed, dropping
the little glass into the bedclothes, and rolling her head on the
pillow fretfully.
A little later, when Milly, Mrs. Snow's daughter, came in, the
mirror still lay among the bedclothes it had been carefully
hidden from sight.
"Why, mother--the curtain is up!" cried Milly, dividing her
amazed stare between the window and the pink in her mother's
hair.
"Well, what if it is?" snapped the sick woman. "I needn't stay in
the dark all my life, if I am sick, need I?"
"Why, n-no, of course not," rejoined Milly, in hasty
conciliation, as she reached for the medicine bottle.
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