It was just then that Grandma Ferguson came in. She had remembered some directions with regard to the brown silk, which she had failed to give in the morning, and had come again to see about it. Finding no one below, and hearing the sound of voices above, she called at the foot of the stairs: “Mrs. La Rue! Mrs. La Rue! Where be you all?” “Hush! Margery is very sick,” the neighbor, whose name was Mrs. Whiting, answered, going to the head of the stairs, and putting her finger to her lips. At the sound of Mrs. Ferguson’s voice a tremor seemed to creep all over Margery, whose head moved a little and whose eyes partly unclosed as the old lady entered the room, and, in great concern, asked what was the matter. “I mistrusted something ailed her this mornin’,” she said, “for she did not appear nateral at all, and her hands was just like ice. Have you tried a mustard paste the whole length of her backbone? My Margaret sometimes had such faintin’ spells, and that always brought her to.” Grandma was standing at the foot of the bed as she talked, and when she mentioned her daughter Margaret, Margery’s eyes unclosed again, and her lips moved as if she would speak. Then she was quiet, and did not stir again until Reinette came in, and at sight of her sprang forward exclaiming: “Oh! what is it? what is it? Margery, Margery! What has happened to her?” At the sound of her voice the same tremor which had run through Margery’s frame when Grandma Ferguson came in, returned, and this time with greater intensity. There was a faint, moaning cry, which sounded like “Queenie, oh, Queenie!” and, stepping forward, the physician said: “Speak to her again, Miss Hetherton. She seems to know you, and we must rouse her, or she will die.” Thus importuned, Reinette knelt beside her friend, covering her face and hand with kisses, and saying to her, softly: “Dear Margery, do you know me? I am Queenie. Speak to me, if you can, and tell me what is the matter? What made you sick so suddenly?” “No, no! oh, no! Go away! I cannot bear it! You hurt!” Margery said, as she tried to disengage her hand from Reinette. And those were the only words she spoke for several days, during which she lay perfectly still, never moving hand or foot, but apparently conscious most of the time of what was passing around her, and always seeming happier when Grandma Ferguson was with her, and agitated when Reinette came in with her caresses and words of sympathy and love. It was a most singular case, and greatly puzzled the physician, who said once to Reinette: “It seems like some mental shock more than a bodily ailment. Do you know if anything has happened to disturb her, which, added to over-fatigue, might produce this utter and sudden prostration?” Queenie hesitated a moment, and then replied: “She did hear something which surprised her greatly, but I should hardly think it sufficient to affect her so much.” “Temperaments differ,” the doctor replied, while Queenie thought to herself: