“You are throwing time and strength away upon this work!” she expostulated. “I don't know another lady in your circumstances who would not take her friends' advice, and put out all the sewing you need to have done. But your eyes and fingers have labored incessantly for six months upon the finest work you could devise, and you begin to look like a shadow. I don't wonder Mr. Dorrance seems uneasy sometimes. He complained this morning that you did not take enough exercise in the open air.” “He is not anxious, nor should he be. I am well, and stronger than you will believe. As to the work, it has been one great delight of my existence during the period you speak of. I could not endure that anybody but myself should assist in fashioning the dainty, tiny garments that make my hope an almost present reality. Every stitch seems to bring nearer the fulfilment of the dear promise. I only regret that this is the last of the set. I shall be at a loss for occupation for the next two months. And I fear from something Herbert said to-day, that he does not intend for me to return to Albany until the spring fairly opens. Dr. Williams has been talking to him about my cough.” “Dr. Williams is a fussy old woman, and Mr. Dorrance”--began Mrs. Sutton. Mabel quietly took up the word. “Mr. Dorrance is ignorant of diseases and medicines, as men usually are who have not studied these with a view to practise upon themselves or others. I have said that he is not really uneasy; but he says, and with truth, that the Northern March and April are raw and cold, and will try my strength severely. Winston and Clara share in his fears. It is very kind in them to tender me the hospitalities of their house for so long a time, but I should feel more at home in my own, during my illness and convalescence.” “Why not tell your husband this plainly?” “Because it might bias his judgment and embarrass his action. I am willing to do as he thinks best.” There were not many subjects upon which Mrs. Sutton was irascible, but she patted the floor with her foot now as if this was one of them--her discontent finding vent at length in what she regarded as a perfectly safe query. “Will he remain with you?” “He cannot. His business is large and increasing. He can afford but this one fortnight vacation.” “How do you expect to get along without him?” “I expect my dear old aunt to come often and see me,” said Mabel affectionately, parrying the catechism “Clara suggested, of her own accord, when the extension of my visit was discussed, that you should be invited to be with me late in April--and I don't want you to refuse. Do you understand, and mean to be complaisant? You are all the mother I have ever known, auntie.”