But Mrs. Parlin said aunt Madge mustn't be nervous; that children were very apt to be "out of their heads" in the night, and she was pretty sure Prudy would wake up bright in the morning.

Aunt Madge tried to hope so, but she hardly slept a wink, for Prudy tossed and twisted all night. Sometimes she thought she was picking berries on the tufted coverlet. Sometimes she cried out that "the crazy man was coming with a axe."

When grandma saw her purple cheeks by daylight she did not laugh at aunt Madge. She brushed the soft curls away from the little one's hot temples, and said softly,--

"How do you feel, Prudy, darling?"

A wild light burned in the child's eyes. "It isn't Prudy!" screamed she, "I ain't her! Go 'way! You're goin' to snip off my nose! O, go right off!"

You may be sure that Grace and Susy were far from happy that day. When they noticed that their grandmother grew more and more uneasy, and when they saw the doctor's gig at the gate, their hearts were very heavy.

"O Grace," said Susy, sobbing, "Prudy thought we didn't love her! We kept saying she was always round. How much do you suppose she is sick?"

"O dear, I don't know," said Grace, wringing her hands; "but I'll tell you one thing--we ought to have seen to her, Susy!"

"O Grace," said Susy, "you don't begin to feel so bad as I do--you can't, because you haven't got any little sister. Only think of my scolding to such a darling little thing as she is!"

"Come, you go up stairs and see what the doctor says," said Grace; "you steal in easy."

"O, I don't dare to," whispered Susy, "I'm all of a tremble." But the moment their grandmother's step was heard in the pa.s.sage they flew to her.

Mrs. Parlin set her vial down on the hall table. "I don't like to tell you," said she, shaking her head sadly; "the doctor calls her a very sick child, and says he is afraid of brain fever."

"Do they die with that?" cried Susy, seizing hold of her grandmother's dress. "O, stop a minute; is she going to die?"

"We hope not," said Mrs. Parlin, "but she is so sick that we shall send a despatch for your mother. I want you to try and keep the house still, girls, and coax Horace to stay out of doors."

"Keep the house still? I guess we will!" said Grace. "O grandma, will you forgive us for being so naughty yesterday?"

"Can you forgive us?" said Susy. "I tell you we feel awfully about it, grandma!"

Mrs. Parlin took off her spectacles to wipe them. "My dear children,"

said she, gravely, "I am ready to forgive you with all my heart; but I hope that before this you have asked pardon of your dear Father in heaven. That is the first thing, you know."

Susy stole off into the nursery, and threw herself on the lounge.

"O G.o.d," sobbed she, "I should think you would hate me, I have acted so bad! O, can you forgive me, and not take Prudy? I never will do so again! I didn't mean any thing when I said she was always round. O, _don't_ let her die and be put in the ground! Please don't, dear G.o.d!

Seems to me I love her the best of any body. When we have any fuss, it's always me that's to blame."

Here Susy's prayer was drowned in sobs; but her heart felt a little lighter because she had told her kind Father just how she felt, and if it was best for Prudy to get well, she was sure he would save her.

Prudy's mother came in the cars that night, looking pale and troubled.

Prudy did not know her.

"Why don't you bring my own mamma?" said she.

"Look at me, darling," said her mother, "here I am, right here. Mother won't leave her little Prudy again."

"I ain't Prudy!" screamed the child; "Prudy's gone to heaven. G.o.d came and helped her up the steps."

One of the first things Mrs. Parlin did was to cut off her little daughter's beautiful curls, and lay them tenderly away in a drawer.

"Ah, sister Madge," said she, "you can't guess how it makes my heart ache to have my child take me for a stranger."

"Perhaps she may know you to-morrow," said aunt Madge; though in her heart she had very little hope of the child.

But Prudy did not know any body "to-morrow," nor the next day, nor the next. O, the long, weary time that they watched by her bed! The terrible disease seemed to be drinking up her life. Her cheeks looked as if fierce fires were hidden in them, and when she raved so wildly her eyes shone like flames.

A deep hush had fallen on the house. Grace and Susy would go and sit by the hour in their seat in the trees, and talk about dear little Prudy. Horace had the heartache, too, and asked every day,--

"_Do_ you think she's going to die?"

n.o.body could answer him, and he had to wait, like all the rest.

But G.o.d did not mean that Prudy should die. At last, after many days, the fever died out like a fire when it has burned the wood all down to cinders. Then there was a pale little girl left, who looked as if a breath would blow her away like white ashes. I think a little baby, that tips over if you touch it, could not be weaker than Prudy was when she began to get well.

Ah, but it was so joyful to see her own sweet smile once more, though never so faint! And every low word she spoke now dropped from her lips like a note of music.

Her father and mother, and the whole family, were full of joy, and Grace and Susy went to their cosy seat in the trees to talk over the pretty things they were going to make for Prudy when she should be well enough to enjoy them.

CHAPTER VII

PRUDY'S PRESENT

"Well, dear," said grandma, coming up stairs one morning, all out of breath, "what did you call me for? What do you want, little one?"

"I don't know," said Prudy, "but I guess _I shall_ want somethin' by and by."

"There, there, darling," said grandma, "don't cry."

"No, I won't," said Prudy, trying to stop. "I was a-talkin' to myself, and I said, 'I won't cry no more,' and then I cried. I don't like to stay in this country, grandma, 'thout I can have somethin' to eat!"

"Of all things," said grandma, "I don't believe there's a little girl any where that has so many nice things as you do. See the jelly, and oranges, and lemons, and----"

"Well, if I wasn't sick, grandma, and you should ask me to eat some _smashed potatoes_, and some _pie_, I'd eat 'em," said Prudy, smiling through her tears.

"Bless your little heart," cried grandma, kissing Prudy's pale cheek.

"Can't you think of something besides eating? What pretty thing shall I bring you to look at?"

"O, now I know what it is I want," replied Prudy, lifting her head from the pillow, "I want to eat up the _old lady_!"

Prudy was thinking of a little image aunt Madge had formed out of candy.

"O, that's made to be looked at," said grandma. "Let's see--where do you suppose your little Zip is nowadays? I guess he misses Prudy."