"Tell me if you can. Where do you feel bad?" she asked.
"Here," Reba replied in a whisper, and she placed her hand upon her chest. "It was better for a while this afternoon," she went on; "I hardly felt it. But now it's worse. You wouldn't think it could hurt me, physically, would you?" she asked. "But it does."
Aunt Augusta bent over the bed and shook Reba by the shoulder.
"Reba, look here, look at me," she said in a firm steady voice. "Do you know who I am? Do you know where you are?"
"Of course—of course—you're Aunt Augusta. I'm in my own bed at home. I could see the roses there on the foot-board if there were more light. Oh! I'm in my right mind. Don't be afraid about that. I've come home to stay. You've got your way with me at last. The only funny thing is, I don't seem to care if you have. I don't seem to care about anything around here."
