It was on an afternoon three days later, that she and Barbara sat together in the Randolphs' parlor, waiting for the news, which was to tell them whether Jessie Graham was to go through life a helpless cripple, or be restored to health and strength once more. The day before she had been taken to a private hospital, and the girls knew that an operation was to be performed that afternoon. They were alone, for Mrs. Graham was with her sister-in-law, and Mrs. Randolph--almost as anxious as the others--had gone to the hospital for news, promising to return as soon as possible. So Marjorie and Barbara sat together side by side on the sofa, holding each other's hands, and waiting in almost breathless suspense. "Mother will be sure to let us know just as soon as there's anything to tell," whispered Barbara, anxious to cheer her friend. "She says Uncle George told her he was very hopeful." "I know," said Marjorie, "he told us all so, but I can't help being frightened when I think of all it means to Aunt Jessie. She doesn't say much, but I know how she must feel. Just think how we would feel if we hadn't walked a step for more than eight years." "Where is your cousin this afternoon?" inquired Barbara, by way of changing the subject. She was almost as anxious as Marjorie, but she had been living at high pressure for so long, it was a relief to get down to commonplaces. "I don't know," said Marjorie; "she was going out, but it rained so hard Aunt Julia wouldn't let her go, on account of her cold. Aunt Julia is very fussy about colds." "Don't you think she would like to come in here with us?" suggested Barbara. "She may be lonely all by herself." "I don't believe she is lonely," said Marjorie, doubtfully, "but if you think she might like to come--" A ring at the door-bell brought Marjorie's sentence to an abrupt end, and both girls sprang to their feet. "I'll see who it is," said Barbara; "it may be a message from Mother." And she flew to open the door, while Marjorie sank back in her seat, feeling suddenly cold and sick with fear. But it was not a message from Mrs. Randolph; it was Elsie. "I just came to ask if you had heard anything yet," she said, looking rather embarrassed, as she noticed the expression of disappointment on Barbara's face. "No, we haven't," Barbara answered; "we thought it might be a message when we heard the bell. Won't you come in?" Elsie hesitated. "Do you really want me?" she asked, doubtfully; "I thought perhaps you would rather be by yourselves." "Of course we want you," declared Barbara, heartily, while Marjorie--in the background--gave a little gasp of astonishment. Such humility from the proud Elsie was something that had never entered her imagination. Elsie made no remark, but she came in, and followed Barbara to the sitting-room, where Marjorie smiled a welcome which appeared to set her cousin more at her ease.