"Mother," said Harriet Gordon, "Elliott thinks you're a three-ringed circus. You mustn't be so exciting till she has finished her milk." Elliott protested, startled. "I think you are the kindest people in the world, both of you!" "Mercy, child, anybody would have done the same! Don't you go to setting us up on pedestals for a little thing like that." The fat girl was smiling. "Make it singular, mother. I have no quarrel with a pedestal for you, though it might be a little awkward to move about on." Mrs. Gordon shook again with that fascinating laughter. "Mercy me! I'd tip off first thing and then where would we all be?" Elliott's eyes sought Harriet Gordon's. If she had observed closely she would have seen spots on the white dress, but to-night she was not looking at clothes. She only thought what a kind face the big girl had and how extraordinarily pleasant her voice was and what good friends she and her mother were, just like Laura and Aunt Jessica, only different. "There!" said Mrs. Gordon. "You drank up every drop, didn't you? You must have been hungry. Now you go right to sleep again and I'll miss my guess if you don't feel real good in the morning." "Good night," said Harriet from the door. "Did you give Blink her good-night mouthful, Mother?" "No, I didn't. How I do forget that cat!" said Mrs. Gordon. She turned down the sheet under Elliott's chin, patted it a little, and asked, "Don't you want your pillow turned over?" Then quite naturally she stooped down and kissed the girl. "I guess you're all right now. Good night." And Elliott put both arms around her neck and hugged her, big as she was. "Good night," she said softly. The next time Elliott woke up it was broad daylight. Her eyes opened on a framed motto, "God is Love," and she had to lie still and think a full minute before she could remember where she was and why she was there at all. Then she smiled at the motto--it wasn't the kind of thing she liked on walls, but to see it there did not make her feel in the least superior this morning--and jumped out of bed. As Mrs. Gordon had prophesied, she felt well, only the least bit wabbly. Probably that was because it was before breakfast--her breakfast. She had a disconcerting fear that it might be long long after other people's breakfasts and for the first time in her life she was distressed at making trouble. Hitherto it had seemed right and normal for people to put themselves out for her. She dressed as quickly as she could and went down-stairs. Harriet was shelling peas on the big veranda that looked off across the valley to the mountains. There must have been rain in the night, for the world was bathed clean and shining. "Mother said to let you sleep as long as you would." Harriet stopped the current of apology on Elliott's lips. "Did you have a good night?" "Splendid! I didn't know a thing from the time your mother went out of the room until half an hour ago." "Didn't know anything about the thunder-shower?"