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Updated: May 8, 2025
Oh h. What are you blinking at, you old owl?" "Are you better this morning, Miss Jane?" asked the attendant, with grave deference. "No; I'm worse." "You look brighter, Miss Jane." "Don't be stupid, Martha Phibbs. I know how I am, better than any doctor, and I tell you I'm on my last legs." "Anything unusual, Miss?" "Of course. I can't be on my last legs regularly, can I?" "I hope not, Miss."
For a day or two Jane Merrick seemed to improve in health. Indeed, Martha Phibbs declared her mistress was better than she had been for weeks. Then, one night, the old attendant was awakened by a scream, and rushed to her mistress' side. "What is it, ma'am?" she asked, tremblingly. "My leg! I can't move my leg," gasped the mistress of Elmhurst. "Rub it, you old fool!
Jane Merrick sniffed the fragrance with evident enjoyment, and her sharp grey eyes sparkled as she allowed them to roam over the gorgeous expanse of colors spread out before her. "I'll go down, I guess, Phibbs. This may be my last day on earth, and I'll spend an hour with my flowers before I bid them good-bye forever." Phibbs pulled a bell-cord, and a soft faraway jingle was heard.
"And somebody's got to have my money and dear Elmhurst when I'm through with them. Who will it be, Phibbs?" "I'm sure I don't know, Miss." "Nor do I. The money's mine, and I can do what I please with it; and I'm under no obligation to anyone." "Except Kenneth," said a soft voice behind her.
Phibbs will take you to Misery, the housekeeper, and then return to me. Remember, I dine promptly at seven." "I shall count the minutes," said Louise, and with a laugh and a graceful gesture of adieu, turned to follow Martha into the house. Jane Merrick looked after her with a puzzled expression upon her face.
So now an air of harmony settled upon Elmhurst, and Uncle John joined the others in admiration of the girl who had conquered the stubbornness of her stern old aunt and proved herself so unselfish and true. One morning Aunt Jane had Phibbs wheel her into her little garden, as usual, and busied herself examining the flowers and plants of which she had always been so fond.
Misery met them, then, and following her came Louise and Beth, full of horror and pity for the victim of the dreadful accident. Jane Merrick had promptly recovered consciousness, for fainting spells were foreign to her nature. Her first words to Phibbs, who was bending over her, were: "Is she dead?" "Who, Miss Jane?" "Patricia." "I don't know, Miss Jane. Why should she be dead?" "Run, you idiot!
"I'm afraid you have needed more loving care than a paid attendant can give you," glancing at old Martha Phibbs, who stood some paces away, and lowering her voice that she might not be overheard. "But for a time, at least, I mean to be your nurse, and look after your wants. You should have sent for me before, Aunt Jane."
"My glasses, Phibbs!" cried Miss Jane, eagerly, and the attendant started briskly for the house to get them. "What do you know about these girls?" asked the old lawyer curiously. "Nothing whatever. I scarcely knew of their existence until you hunted them out for me and found they were alive.
Then an old man came slowly around the corner of the house. His bare head was quite bald. He wore a short canvas apron and carried pruning-shears in one hand. Without a word of greeting to his mistress or scarce a glance at her half recumbent form, he mounted the steps of the piazza and assisted Phibbs to lift the chair to the ground. "How are the roses coming on, James?"
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