what I have to say I must say quickly." Her voice seemed to grow suddenly stronger with a great earnestness. "Listen, dear. This must not make any difference to this wonderful work that has just begun here. I was cured of my hip disease—perfectly cured—no one can deny that—this is my own fault, I have overdone it—I would not listen to reason—to do what I have done in the last few days, when for a year and a half I had never moved a step, was more than my heart could stand. I should have been more quiet—but I was so glad, so happy—and I wanted to tell everybody—I wanted all the world to know, so that others could find the joy that I had found."
She paused—and Helena sought for words that, somehow, would not come.
The nurse was bending over the bed on the other side, and Mrs. Thornton turned her head toward Miss Harvey now. She smiled gently, as though to rob her words of any possible hurt.
"Nurse, I want—to be alone with Miss Vail for just a moment."
Miss Harvey, doubtful, hesitated.
"Only for a moment," pleaded Mrs. Thornton. "You can stay just outside the door."
Reluctantly, Miss Harvey complied, and left the room.
Mrs. Thornton pressed Helena's hand tightly.
"Listen, dear—this must not make any difference. It—it is the one thing that will make me happy now—to know that. I—I have writ-
