"And I never shed a tear, not one, till you came," said she. "I’m so glad you came just when I began to get better." Mabel did not dare to tell her that she had only been home-sick. "If I tell her that, she will lie in bed to convince me that she is really ill," she thought. Girls’ voices were heard screaming volubly. "What’s that?" asked Mabel, thinking that some accident had occurred. "Oh nothing. They call out for each other from their different rooms. I thought it was a parrot house when I came, but I’m getting accustomed to it. They’ve been so decent, you can’t think, Mabel. I never knew girls could be so comforting." "Poor Jean," said Mabel. "You’ll stay, won’t you," said Jean. "Of course I shall. Just imagine, papa wanted to come and take you home. It would have been so stale for you after you got there, with those little presents people gave you and all that kind of thing, if you had gone right back home again, wouldn’t it?" "Imagine Aunt Katharine alone," said Jean solemnly. "So, if you possibly can, Jean, get up as soon as you feel able to crawl. So that I can say you are all right. Papa says I may stay for a week or two if you are." "Oh, Mabs, I wish you would stay right on!" "Where’s my room?" asked Mabel. "What rickety furniture!" "The room is next door, isn’t it nice? And the furniture’s bought for girls. They think we like rickets." "Wickets," corrected Mabel. "You could use that chair at a match." "Oh, Mabs, how jolly it is to have you here to laugh at it. Mabs, I do feel better." Mabel saw her up in three-quarters of an hour. Jean had still to be treated seriously however. "You know, Mabs, I had the most dreadful feeling. I could quite understand how poor girls without friends go and drown themselves." "That’s more like depression than appendicitis," Mabel ventured. "I hadn’t been sleeping," explained Jean with dignity. Mabel thought of some sleepless nights. "The best cure is always to believe that it can’t last," said she. "Do you remember papa’s telling us how Carlyle comforted Mrs. Carlyle when she had toothache? He said it wouldn’t be permanent." "What a brute," said Jean. "Well, it sent me to sleep once or twice when I remembered that," said Mabel. "But you never were ill like this before. You couldn’t believe in getting well, could you?" "I was sure I was going to die," said Jean in a hushed voice. Mabel’s heart had ached. Could she tell Jean of that ache and how she had been obliged to cover it up by making herself believe that it could not possibly be permanent. "Jean, do you know, I think it’s so jolly being here, getting to know the best way of doing things, and all that sort of thing, I think I shall ask papa to let me stay longer. Do you think they would let me?" "Well, they let me--and then I didn’t want to," said Jean. "And I didn’t want to and now I do," said Mabel. "Let’s try it for a week or two anyhow."