Domestic fiction; Girls -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction
"Exactly. I did it on my own responsibility. He was most concerned
about you. He said that what Dr. Smith had ordered you ought to carry
out."
"He was always very hard on Annie," said Miss Grace, who saw only one
side to such a proposal.
Adelaide Maud bent her head a trifle.
"You ought not to think of Miss Annie, at present," said she. "It isn’t
right. It isn’t fair to her either, supposing you turn really ill, what
would become of her?"
Neither noticed the lagging notes on the piano. Instead, in the
earnestness of their conversation, they entirely forgot Elma.
Miss Grace shook her head.
"I can’t help it," she said. "Whatever happens to me, I must stay by my
bed-ridden sister. Who would look after her if I deserted her? What is
my poor well-being compared to hers!"
The notes on the piano fell completely away. Elma sat with the tears
raining down her face.
"Oh, Miss Grace," she said brokenly, "are you ill? Don’t say you are
ill."
The sky had fallen indeed, if such a thing could be true, as Miss Grace
in a trouble of her own--and such a trouble--ill health--when Miss Annie
required her so much.
Adelaide Maud looked greatly discouraged.
"Now, Elma," she exclaimed abruptly, "Miss Grace is only a little bit
ill, and it’s to keep her from getting worse that I’m talking to her.
We didn’t intend you to listen. Miss Annie will wonder why the piano
has stopped. Be cheerful now and play a bit--something merrier than
what you’ve been at."
She pretended not to see that Miss Grace wiped her eyes a trifle.
"I make you an offer, Miss Grace. I shall come here every day and stay
and be sweet to every one. I shall take Miss Annie her flowers and her
books and her work, and I shall bark away all nasty intruders like a
good sheep dog. I shall keep the servants in a good temper--including
Saunders who is a love, and I promise you, you will never regret it--if
only you go away for a holiday--now--before you have time to be ill,
because you didn’t take the thing at the start!"
(Could this be Adelaide Maud!)
Elma flung herself off the music stool, and rushed to Miss Grace.
"And oh, please, please, Miss Grace, let me go with you to see that you
get better. You never will unless some one makes you. You will just
try to get back to Miss Annie." Thus Elma sounded the first note of
that great quality she possessed which distinguished the thing other
people required and made her anxious to see it given to them.
A break in Miss Grace’s calm determination occurred.
"Oh that, my love, my dear little love, that would be very pleasant."
She patted Elma’s hand with anxious affection.
Adelaide Maud looked hopeful.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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