"I teased her," sighed Henrietta, repentantly, "only two days before she was taken sick. I do wish I hadn't." "I gave her the smaller half of my orange," lamented Mabel, "the very last time I saw her. If--if I don't ever see--see her again----" "Oh, well," comforted Marjory, hastily, "she might have been just that much sicker if she'd eaten the larger piece. But _I_ wish I hadn't talked so much about boarding school. It always worried her and sometimes I tried [Marjory blushed guiltily at the remembrance] to make her just a little envious." "I'm afraid," confessed Jean, "I sometimes neglected her just a little for Henrietta; but I mean to make up for it if--if I have a chance." "That's it," breathed Marjory, softly, "if we only have a chance." Then, because the March wind wailed forlornly, because the waiting had been so long and because it seemed to the discouraged children as if the chance, after all, were extremely slight--as slight and frail a thing as poor little Bettie herself--the four friends sat very quietly for many minutes on the rail of the Mapes's broad porch, with big tears flowing down their cheeks. Presently Mabel fell to sobbing outright. Mr. Black, on his way home from his office, found them there. He had meant to salute them in his usual friendly fashion, but at sight of their disconsolate faces he merely glanced at them inquiringly. "She's--she's just about the same," sobbed Jean. Mr. Black, without a word, proceeded on his way; but all the sparkle had vanished from his dark eyes and his countenance seemed older. He, too, was unhappy on Bettie's account and he lived in hourly dread of unfavorable news. The very next morning, however, there was a more hopeful air about Dr. Bennett when he left the Rectory. Mabel, waiting at home, questioned him mutely with her eyes. "A very slight change for the better," said he, "but it is too soon for us to be sure of anything. We're not out of the woods yet." Next came the tidings that Bettie was really improving, though not at all rapidly; yet it was something to know that she was started on the road to recovery. Perhaps the tedious days that followed were the most trying days of all, however, for the impatient children; because the "road to recovery" in Bettie's case seemed such a tremendously long road that her little friends began to fear that Bettie would never come into sight at the end of it, but she did at last. And such a forlorn Bettie as she was! She had certainly been very ill. They had shaved her poor little head, her eyes seemed almost twice their usual size and the girls had not believed that any living person could become so pitiably thin; but the wasting fever was gone and what was left of Bettie was still alive.