flowers, so did the woman who sold her gloves. Our Bridget asked the priest to pray for her.
When finally it was reported that she had regained consciousness, had recognized her family, had smiled at Burr, was going to live, you could feel the spirit of thanksgiving in everybody's glad good morning. Only a few of us feared that Elsie DeForrest might never walk again; only the DeForrests and Burr and I knew that poor little Elsie's side from the hip down had been paralyzed for days, and that even the most hopeful specialists shook their heads and looked very grave.
Burr came home every Sunday now. He made his headquarters at the DeForrests', managing to eat one meal with us, Sunday breakfast usually, and hurrying away soon after to sit with Elsie. I watched the lines that Burr's anxiety furrowed in his face, pityingly.
"If Elsie never walks, I'm the one to blame, Nan," he would say to me, and, "If Elsie is lame it will be all my fault, sister." And yet, I wondered silently to myself, Burr would have broken the poor girl's heart and run off to the South Sea Islands with hardly a pang.
I didn't see Elsie for at least six months after her accident. It was in November. The doctors were trying a new treatment then, fastening heavy weights to the injured leg for certain periods each
