Sophia Jane continued better, and was much looking forward, Aunt Hannah said, to her companion's visit. Susan was cautioned before she went upstairs to be very kind and gentle, not to vex or thwart the invalid, and to call Buskin if anything should be wanted. Aunt Hannah would go out a little while, which she had scarcely done since Sophia Jane's illness. All this was promised, and it seemed another reason against saying anything about the collar; for, if Sophia Jane knew the truth, it would certainly vex and thwart her. Susan collected some things which she thought might amuse her, and perhaps prevent her from dwelling long on the dreaded subject. The game of dominoes, Grace, a box of beads, and Andersen's fairy tales. Struggling upstairs with these, she was soon in the invalid's room. Sophia Jane looked much more like herself than when Susan had last seen her. She was lying quietly down among her pillows with a very white little face, and one hand resting feebly on the substantial form of Dinah, Margaretta's black doll. By her side was a tiny bunch of snowdrops which Nanna had found in the garden that morning; how kind everyone was to her now! It gave Susan a little pang to remember that she herself had done nothing to please her, but just the opposite. Often, when Sophia Jane was well, she had asked to be allowed to have Dinah to herself for a little while, but had always been refused. Now, here she was. She was a most attractive doll, for there was a foreign air about her that distinguished her from all English ones. The nuns at Bahia had stuffed her so cleverly that her plump black face and limbs glistened; she wore earrings, a gay turban, and very full flowered chintz skirts. All her under-garments would "take off," and were trimmed with curious hand-made lace. It was a great privilege to be allowed to play with her. Sophia Jane received her visitor quietly, with a small pinched smile. In answer to Susan's inquiries she pronounced herself better, but added with her usual old-fashioned air: "I'm not well yet, though. I'm still ill and shaky." "What would you like to play at?" was Susan's next inquiry put rather hastily. "Nothing at all," was the decided answer. "I want to talk." "But," said Susan earnestly, "aunt told me you were not to talk much-- she did, really." "Well, I'll ask questions, and you talk," said Sophia Jane. "Wouldn't you rather have a game of dominoes?" Susan ventured to suggest. "No," answered Sophia Jane snappishly, "I wouldn't." Such an angry gleam came into her eyes that Susan, remembering she was not to vex or thwart her, resigned herself to be questioned. Her heart beat quickly. What would the first question be? It was quite an easy one. "Did she like it?" asked Sophia Jane, settling herself comfortably on her elbow, and staring at her companion. "Very much indeed," answered Susan. "Did it fit him? Tell me all about it."