Miss Fletcher noted the new expression in the invalid’s usually listless face, and the new light in her eyes.

“I’ll take my Bible,” she answered, “and a concordance.  I’ll bring them right now.  You children go on playing and I’ll find all the references I can, and Flossie and I will read them after you’ve gone.”

Miss Fletcher brought her books out under the tree, and with pencil and paper made her notes while the children played with their dolls.

“Let’s have them both your children, Flossie,” said Hazel.

“Oh, yes,” replied Flossie, “and they’ll both be sick, and you be the doctor and come and feel their pulses.  Aunt Hazel has my doll’s little medicine bottles in the house.  She’ll tell you where they are.”

Hazel paused.  “Let’s not play that,” she returned, “because—­it isn’t fun to be sick and—­you’re going to be all done with sickness.”

“All right,” returned Flossie; but it had been her principal play with her doll, Bernice, who had recovered from such a catalogue of ills that it reflected great credit on her medical man.

“I’ll be the maid,” said Hazel, “and you give me the directions and I’ll take the children to drive and to dancing-school and everywhere you tell me.”

“And when they’re naughty,” returned Flossie, “you bring them to me to spank, because I can’t let my servants punish my children.”

Hazel paused again.  “Let’s play you’re a Christian Scientist,” she said, “and you have a Christian Science maid, then there won’t be any spanking; because if error creeps in, you’ll know how to handle it in mind.”

“Oh!” returned Flossie blankly.

But Hazel was fertile in ideas, and the play proceeded with spirit, owing to the lightning speed with which the maid changed to a coachman, and thence to a market-man or a gardener, according to the demands of the situation.

Miss Fletcher, her spectacles well down on her nose, industriously searched out her references and made record of them, her eyes roving often to the white face that was fuller of interest than she had ever seen it.

When four o’clock came, she went back to the house and returned with Flossie’s lap table, which she leaned against the tree trunk.  This afternoon lunch for the invalid was always accomplished with much coaxing on Miss Fletcher’s part, and great reluctance on Flossie’s.  The little girl took no notice now of what was coming.  She was too much engrossed in Hazel’s efforts to induce Miss Fletcher’s maltese cat to allow Bernice to take a ride on his back.

But when the hostess returned from the house the second time, Hazel gave an exclamation.  Miss Fletcher was carrying a tray, and upon it was laid out a large doll’s tea-set.  It was of white china with gold bands, and when Flossie saw Hazel’s admiration, she exclaimed too.

“This was my tea-set when I was a little girl,” said Miss Fletcher, “and I was always very choice of it.  Twenty years ago I had a niece your age, Hazel, who used to think it was the best fun in the world to come to aunt Hazel’s and have lunch off her doll’s tea-set.  I used to tell her I was going to give it to her little girl if she ever had one.”