And then afterwards, Hattie dear, perhaps if you’d let me, the twenty-third psalm. It’s so gentle and quiet! You might go to sleep—and when you awakened you’d hear those comforting words. THE GIRL. Is that the one about the valley? God, but I’m sick of it! Gives me the jimmies. Got a story? [_THE LADY puts the flowers back in their box—takes off her wrap and settles herself to read aloud from a magazine._] Marianna Lane swung back and forth, back and forth, in the hammock, tapping her small, brown toe on the porch as she swung. It was a charming porch, framed in clematis and woodbine, but Marianna had no eye for its good points. She was lying with two slim arms clasped behind her head, staring vacantly up at the ceiling and composing a poem. On the wicker table beside her stood a glass of malted milk and a teaspoon. They were not the subject of the poem, but they were nevertheless responsible for it. Her cousin Frank, who lived in the next house, had been inspired to make up an insulting ditty. “Grocerman, bring a can Baby-food for Mary Ann!” [_THE GIRL listens for a moment with a faint show of interest, then goes back to her restless tossing._] THE GIRL. [_Interrupting._] Say, d’ye know I’m done for? THE LADY. Oh no! You’re getting better every day. THE GIRL. Oh, quit it! I’m goin’, I tell ye. I’ve got a head-piece on me, haven’t I? I can tell—they’ve stopped doin’ all them things to me. The doctor just sets down there where you are and looks at me—and, say—he’s got gump, that doctor. He’s the only one knows I know. THE LADY. You mustn’t talk like that. I’m sure you’re going to get well. [_Girl makes an angry snort._] Now try and lie quiet. You mustn’t get excited, you know, it isn’t good for sick people. I’ll go on with the story. You’ll see. Now listen, will you, dear? It’s quite interesting. [_Reads._] “Grocerman, bring a can Baby-food for Mary Ann!” he sang loudly over the hedge whenever he caught sight of Marianna’s middy blouse and yellow pigtails. That was yesterday. To-day the malted milk was standing untouched upon the wicker table, and Marianna in the hammock was trying to think up an offensive rhyme for Frank. When she found it, she intended to go around on the other side of the house and shout it as loud as ever she could in the direction of her uncle’s garden. This, it is true, was a tame revenge. What Marianna really wanted to do was to go over and pinch her cousin Frank; but that, unhappily, was out of the question, as Frank had a cold, and she was strictly forbidden to go near anybody with a cold.[3] THE GIRL. [_Interrupting._] Lady, where d’ you think you’re goin’ to when you kick it? Tell me! THE LADY. Why—I don’t know—To Heaven, I hope—but you mustn’t— [Illustration: THE GIRL: I’M SO TIRED, I’D LIKE SOMETHING NICER] THE GIRL.