hearing girls cry. It was as much Sara Ray's normal state as any other, and even Felicity and Cecily availed themselves occasionally of the privilege of sex. But I had never heard any girl cry like this. It gave me the same unpleasant sensation which I had felt one time when I had seen my father cry.
"Oh, don't, Sara, don't," I said gently, patting her convulsed shoulder.
"You are a queer girl," said Felicity—more tolerantly than usual however—"you never cried a speck when you thought Peter was going to die—and now when he is going to get better you cry like that."
"Sara, child, come with me," said Aunt Olivia, bending over her. The Story Girl got up and went away, with Aunt Olivia's arms around her. The sound of her crying died away under the firs, and with it seemed to go the dread and grief that had been our portion for hours. In the reaction our spirits rose with a bound.
"Oh, ain't it great that Peter's going to be all right?" said Dan, springing up.
"I never was so glad of anything in my whole life," declared Felicity in shameless rapture.
"Can't we send word somehow to Sara Ray to-night?" asked Cecily, the ever-thoughtful. "She's feeling so bad—and she'll have to feel that way till to-morrow if we can't."
"Let's all go down to the Ray gate and holler to Judy Pineau till she comes out," suggested Felix.
Accordingly, we went and "hollered," with a right
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