Poor little Mercy! But I was to pity her much more during the succeeding ten minutes. Amos came out to the barberry hedge to tell our cook that Miss Mercy was in bed and he 'lowed she'd smallpox. He was off in pursuit of the doctor, who was at Mrs. Kane's who'd got a fearful bad case. Hardly was Amos out of sight than Nellie, in her cheap imitation of the latest fashion of big hat, dashed out of the gate after the street car. So do rats desert the sinking ship, I thought. Straightway I went over to the house. Katy herself answered the bell. She was in two minds about ejecting me by force, but she softened when I recalled to her how recently I had been vaccinated. "Well, Miss Patsy, that's _so_," she admitted, "and besides, I ain't absolutely sure _'tis_ smallpox. But she'd a kinder chill and I wouldn't let her come down-stairs. Say, you don't happen to have seen Nellie anywhere?" When I told her, she drew a long sigh. We were standing at the side door, where a great Norway fir shakes its blue-green shadows. "'Tis like her," said Katy bitterly, "and only yesterday Miss Mercy gave her sech a pretty waist. And now she's run off and Miss Mercy's got the smallpox--mebbe. Well, I dunno as it's as dangerous as Alterruria, and mebbe one will cure the other--Oh, _say_! Look, Miss Patsy!" I looked. They came in a kind of rush with the flutter of brilliant autumn leaves, swirling around the house corner--Nellie and young Ralph Gordon. Nellie's cheeks were blazing, but young Gordon looked white and stern. "Why, Nellie Small, ain't you run away?" cried Katy. Before Nellie could retort, the young gentleman took the limelight. "Where is Miss Mercy?" he demanded in that tone of voice which the novelists call "tense;" "I must say a few words to her. You can let me say them through the door, if you wish, Mrs. Biff." Katy hardly considered; her eyes shone into his masterful face. She turned on her heel and he followed her. Instantly Nellie's excitement found burning words: "I _heard_ her, Miss McFarlin! She thinks I ran away! _Me!_ Well, I know she has a mean opinion of me, but I didn't expect she'd be that unjust. I'm jest as fond of Miss Mercy as she is; I only sprinted down the street to ketch her young man, because I know they had a misunderstanding, and I was sure, no matter how mad he was, the minute I told him, he'd come a-running, and whether they let her see him or not, it would cheer her up a whole lot to know he tried. And as for Mrs. Biff's pitying Miss Mercy and finding fault with her, _I_ can tell you she's made me believe things Mrs. Biff nor nobody else could if she offered me the kingdom of heaven and a chromo! I never believed before rich folks _could_ be like her. I don't know what that Altrury of hers is, but if _she_ believes in it _I'm_ going to; and so is Phil, and he's going to make them stop the strike, too; and it's a whole lot because of what she's said and what I've said 'bout her. It is, for fair!"