MOONSTONEagain，intheyear1909。TheMetho—
distsaregivinganice—creamsociableinthegroveaboutthenewcourt—house。Itisawarmsummernightoffullmoon。Thepaperlanternswhichhangamongthetreesarefoolishtoys，onlydimming，inlittleluridcircles，thegreatsoftnessofthelunarlightthatfloodstheblueheavensandthehighplateau。Totheeastthesandhillsshinewhiteasofold，buttheempireofthesandisgrad—
uallydiminishing。Thegrassgrowsthickeroverthedunesthanitusedto，andthestreetsofthetownareharderandfirmerthantheyweretwenty—fiveyearsago。Theoldin—
habitantswilltellyouthatsandstormsareinfrequentnow，thatthewindblowslesspersistentlyinthespringandplaysamildertune。Cultivationhasmodifiedthesoilandtheclimate，asitmodifieshumanlife。
ThepeopleseatedaboutunderthecottonwoodsaremuchsmarterthantheMethodistsweusedtoknow。TheinteriorofthenewMethodistChurchlookslikeatheater，withaslopingfloor，andasthecongregationproudlysay，"operachairs。"Thematronswhoattendtoservingtherefreshmentsto—nightlookyoungerfortheiryearsthandidthewomenofMrs。Kronborg’stime，andthechildrenalllooklikecitychildren。Thelittleboyswear"BusterBrowns"andthelittlegirlsRussianblouses。Thecoun—
trychild，inmade—oversandcut—downs，seemstohavevanishedfromthefaceoftheearth。
Atoneofthetables，withherDutch—cuttwinboys，sitsafair—haired，dimpledmatronwhowasonceLilyFisher。Herhusbandispresidentofthenewbank，andshe"goesEastforhersummers，"apracticewhichcauses
envyanddiscontentamongherneighbors。Thetwinsarewell—behavedchildren，biddable，meek，neatabouttheirclothes，andalwaysmindfuloftheproprietiestheyhavelearnedatsummerhotels。Whiletheyareeatingtheirice—
creamandtryingnottotwistthespoonintheirmouths，alittleshriekoflaughterbreaksfromanadjacenttable。
Thetwinslookup。Theresitsasprylittleoldspinsterwhomtheyknowwell。Shehasalongchin，alongnose，andsheisdressedlikeayounggirl，withapinksashandalacegardenhatwithpinkrosebuds。Sheissurroundedbyacrowdofboys，——looseandlanky，shortandthick，——
whoarejokingwithherroughly，butnotunkindly。
"Mamma，"oneofthetwinscomesoutinashrilltreble，"whyisTillieKronborgalwaystalkingaboutathousanddollars？"
Theboys，hearingthisquestion，breakintoaroaroflaughter，thewomentitterbehindtheirpapernapkins，andevenfromTilliethereisalittleshriekofapprecia—
tion。Theobservingchild’sremarkhadmadeeveryonesuddenlyrealizethatTillieneverstoppedtalkingaboutthatparticularsumofmoney。Inthespring，whenshewenttobuyearlystrawberries，andwastoldthattheywerethirtycentsabox，shewassuretoremindthegrocerthatthoughhernamewasKronborgshedidn’tgetathousanddollarsanight。Intheautumn，whenshewenttobuyhercoalforthewinter，sheexpressedamazementatthepricequotedher，andtoldthedealerhemusthavegothermixedupwithherniecetothinkshecouldpaysuchasum。WhenshewasmakingherChristmaspresents，sheneverfailedtoaskthewomenwhocameintohershopwhatyouCOULDmakeforanybodywhogotathousanddollarsanight。WhentheDenverpapersan—
nouncedthatTheaKronborghadmarriedFrederickOtten—
burg，theheadoftheBrewers’Trust，MoonstonepeopleexpectedthatTillie’svain—gloriousnesswouldtakean—
otherform。ButTilliehadhopedthatTheawouldmarry
atitle，andshedidnotboastmuchaboutOttenburg，——
atleastnotuntilafterhermemorabletriptoKansasCitytohearTheasing。
TillieisthelastKronborgleftinMoonstone。Shelivesaloneinalittlehousewithagreenyard，andkeepsafancy—
workandmillinerystore。Herbusinessmethodsarein—
formal，andshewouldnevercomeoutevenattheendoftheyear，ifshedidnotreceiveadraftforagoodroundsumfromhernieceatChristmastime。ThearrivalofthisdraftalwaysrenewsthediscussionastowhatTheawoulddoforherauntifshereallydidtherightthing。MostoftheMoonstonepeoplethinkTheaoughttotakeTillietoNewYorkandkeepherasacompanion。WhiletheyarefeelingsorryforTilliebecauseshedoesnotliveatthePlaza，Tillieistryingnottohurttheirfeelingsbyshow—
ingtooplainlyhowmuchsherealizesthesuperiorityofherposition。ShetriestobemodestwhenshecomplainstothepostmasterthatherNewYorkpaperismorethanthreedayslate。Itmeansenough，surely，onthefaceofit，thatsheistheonlypersoninMoonstonewhotakesaNewYorkpaperorwhohasanyreasonfortakingone。A
foolishyounggirl，Tillielivedinthesplendidsorrowsof"Wanda"and"Strathmore"；afoolisholdgirl，shelivesinherniece’striumphs。Assheoftensays，shejustmissedgoingonthestageherself。
Thatnightafterthesociable，asTillietrippedhomewithacrowdofnoisyboysandgirls，shewasperhapsashadetroubled。Thetwin’squestionratherlingeredinherears。Didshe，perhaps，insisttoomuchonthatthousanddollars？Surely，peopledidn’tforaminutethinkitwasthemoneyshecaredabout？Asforthat，Tillietossedherhead，shedidn’tcarearap。Theymustunderstandthatthismoneywasdifferent。
Whenthelaughinglittlegroupthatbroughtherhomehadgoneweavingdownthesidewalkthroughtheleafyshadowsandhaddisappeared，Tilliebroughtoutarocking
chairandsatdownonherporch。Onglorious，softsummernightslikethis，whenthemoonisopulentandfull，thedaysubmergedandforgotten，shelovestosittherebehindherrose—vineandletherfancywanderwhereitwill。IfyouchancedtobepassingdownthatMoonstonestreetandsawthatalertwhitefigurerockingtherebehindthescreenofrosesandlingeringlateintothenight，youmightfeelsorryforher，andhowmistakenyouwouldbe！Tillielivesinalittlemagicworld，fullofsecretsatisfactions。
TheaKronborghasgivenmuchnoblepleasuretoaworldthatneedsallitcanget，buttonoindividualhasshegivenmorethantoherqueeroldauntinMoonstone。ThelegendofKronborg，theartist，fillsTillie’slife；shefeelsrichandexaltedinit。Whatdelightfulthingshappeninhermindasshesitsthererocking！Shegoesbacktothoseearlydaysofsandandsun，whenTheawasachildandTilliewasherself，soitseemstoher，"young。"WhensheusedtohurrytochurchtohearMr。Kronborg’swon—
derfulsermons，andwhenTheausedtostandupbytheorganofabrightSundaymorningandsing"Come，YeDisconsolate。"OrshethinksaboutthatwonderfultimewhentheMetropolitanOperaCompanysangaweek’sengagementinKansasCity，andTheasentforherandhadherstaywithherattheCoatesHouseandgotoeveryperformanceatConventionHall。ThealetTilliegothroughhercostumetrunksandtryonherwigsandjewels。AndthekindnessofMr。Ottenburg！WhenTheadinedinherownroom，hewentdowntodinnerwithTillie，andneverlookedboredorabsent—mindedwhenshechattered。HetookhertothehallthefirsttimeTheasangthere，andsatintheboxwithherandhelpedherthrough"Lohengrin。"Afterthefirstact，whenTillieturnedtearfuleyestohimandburstout，"Idon’tcare，shealwaysseemedgrandlikethat，evenwhenshewasagirl。IexpectI’mcrazy，butshejustseemstomefullofallthemoldtimes！"——Ottenburgwassosympathetic
andpattedherhandandsaid，"Butthat’sjustwhatsheis，fulloftheoldtimes，andyouareawisewomantoseeit。"Yes，hesaidthattoher。TillieoftenwonderedhowshehadbeenabletobearitwhenTheacamedownthestairsintheweddingrobeembroideredinsilver，withatrainsolongittooksixwomentocarryit。
Tilliehadlivedfifty—oddyearsforthatweek，butshegotit，andnomiraclewasevermoremiraculousthanthat。
Whensheusedtobeworkinginthefieldsonherfather’sMinnesotafarm，shecouldn’thelpbelievingthatshewouldsomedayhavetodowiththe"wonderful，"thoughherchancesforithadthenlookedsoslender。
Themorningafterthesociable，Tillie，curledupinbed，wasrousedbytherattleofthemilkcartdownthestreet。
Thenaneighborboycamedownthesidewalkoutsideherwindow，singing"CaseyJones"asifhehadn’tacareintheworld。BythistimeTilliewaswideawake。Thetwin’squestion，andthesubsequentlaughter，camebackwithafainttwinge。Tillieknewshewasshort—sightedaboutfacts，butthistime——Why，therewereherscrap—
books，fullofnewspaperandmagazinearticlesaboutThea，andhalf—tonecuts，snap—shotsofheronlandandsea，andphotographsofherinallherparts。There，inherparlor，wasthephonographthathadcomefromMr。OttenburglastJune，onThea’sbirthday；shehadonlytogointhereandturniton，andletTheaspeakforherself。TilliefinishedbrushingherwhitehairandlaughedasshegaveitasmartturnandbroughtitintoherusualFrenchtwist。IfMoon—
stonedoubted，shehadevidenceenough：inblackandwhite，infiguresandphotographs，evidenceinhairlinesonmetaldisks。Foronewhohadsooftenseentwoandtwoasmakingsix，whohadsooftenstretchedapoint，addedatouch，inthegoodgameoftryingtomaketheworldbrighterthanitis，therewaspositiveblissinhavingsuchdeepfoundationsofsupport。SheneednevertrembleinsecretlestshemightsometimestretchapointinThea’s
favor。——Oh，thecomfort，toasoultoozealous，ofhavingatlastarosesoreditcouldnotbefurtherpainted，alilysotrulyauriferousthatnoamountofgildingcouldexceedthefact！
Tilliehurriedfromherbedroom，threwopenthedoorsandwindows，andletthemorningbreezeblowthroughherlittlehouse。
Intwominutesacobfirewasroaringinherkitchenstove，infiveshehadsetthetable。AtherhouseholdworkTilliewasalwaysburstingoutwithshrillsnatchesofsong，andassuddenlystopping，rightinthemiddleofaphrase，asifshehadbeenstruckdumb。Sheemergeduponthebackporchwithoneofthesebursts，andbentdowntogetherbutterandcreamoutoftheice—box。Thecatwaspurringonthebenchandthemorning—glorieswerethrust—
ingtheirpurpletrumpetsinthroughthelattice—workinafriendlyway。TheyremindedTilliethatwhileshewaswaitingforthecoffeetoboilshecouldgetsomeflowersforherbreakfasttable。Shelookedoutuncertainlyatabushofsweet—briarthatgrewattheedgeofheryard，offacrossthelonggrassandthetomatovines。Thefrontporch，tobesure，wasdrippingwithcrimsonramblersthatoughttobecutforthegoodofthevines；butnevertheroseinthehandforTillie！Shecaughtupthekitchenshearsandoffshedashedthroughgrassanddrenchingdew。
Snip，snip；theshort—stemmedsweet—briars，salmon—pinkandgolden—hearted，withtheiruniqueandinimitablewoodyperfume，fellintoherapron。
Aftersheputtheeggsandtoastonthetable，TillietooklastSunday’sNewYorkpaperfromtherackbesidethecupboardandsatdown，withitforcompany。IntheSundaypapertherewasalwaysapageaboutsingers，eveninsummer，andthatweekthemusicalpagebeganwithasympatheticaccountofMadameKronborg’sfirstper—
formanceofISOLDEinLondon。Attheendofthenotice，therewasashortparagraphaboutherhavingsungforthe
KingatBuckinghamPalaceandhavingbeenpresentedwithajewelbyHisMajesty。
SingingfortheKing；butGoodness！shewasalwaysdoingthingslikethat！Tillietossedherhead。Allthroughbreakfastshekeptstickinghersharpnosedownintotheglassofsweet—briar，withtheoldincrediblelightnessofheart，likeachild’sballoontuggingatitsstring。Shehadalwaysinsisted，againstallevidence，thatlifewasfulloffairytales，anditwas！Shehadbeenfeelingalittledown，perhaps，andTheahadansweredher，fromsofar。Fromacommonperson，now，ifyouweretroubled，youmightgetaletter。ButTheaalmostneverwroteletters。Sheansweredeveryone，friendsandfoesalike，inoneway，herownway，heronlyway。OncemoreTilliehastore—
mindherselfthatitisalltrue，andisnotsomethingshehas"madeup。"Likeallromancers，sheisalittleterrifiedatseeingoneofherwildestconceitsadmittedbythehard—
headedworld。Ifourdreamcomestrue，wearealmostafraidtobelieveit；forthatisthebestofallgoodfortune，andnothingbettercanhappentoanyofus。
WhenthepeopleonSylvesterStreettireofTillie’sstories，shegoesovertotheeastpartoftown，whereherlegendsarealwayswelcome。ThehumblerpeopleofMoonstonestilllivethere。Thesamelittlehousessitunderthecottonwoods；themensmoketheirpipesinthefrontdoorways，andthewomendotheirwashinginthebackyard。TheolderwomenrememberThea，andhowsheusedtocomekickingherexpresswagonalongtheside—
walk，steeringbythetongueandholdingThorinherlap。
Notmuchhappensinthatpartoftown，andthepeoplehavelongmemories。AboygrewupononeofthosestreetswhowenttoOmahaandbuiltupagreatbusiness，andisnowveryrich。MoonstonepeoplealwaysspeakofhimandTheatogether，asexamplesofMoonstoneenter—
prise。Theydo，however，talkoftenerofThea。Avoicehasevenawiderappealthanafortune。Itistheonegiftthat
allcreatureswouldpossessiftheycould。DrearyMaggieEvans，deadnearlytwentyyears，isstillrememberedbe—
causeTheasangatherfuneral"aftershehadstudiedinChicago。"
Howevermuchtheymaysmileather，theoldinhabi—
tantswouldmissTillie。Herstoriesgivethemsomethingtotalkaboutandtoconjectureabout，cutoffastheyarefromtherestlesscurrentsoftheworld。ThemanynakedlittlesandbarswhichliebetweenVeniceandthemain—
land，intheseeminglystagnantwaterofthelagoons，aremadehabitableandwholesomeonlybecause，everynight，afootandahalfoftidecreepsinfromtheseaandwindsitsfreshbrineupthroughallthatnetworkofshiningwater—
ways。So，intoallthelittlesettlementsofquietpeople，tidingsofwhattheirboysandgirlsaredoingintheworldbringrealrefreshment；bringtotheold，memories，andtotheyoung，dreams。
THEEND
THESONGOFTHELARK
byWILLACATHER
PARTI
FRIENDSOFCHILDHOOD
I
Dr。HowardArchiehadjustcomeupfromagameofpoolwiththeJewishclothierandtwotravel—
ingmenwhohappenedtobestayingovernightinMoon—
stone。HisofficeswereintheDukeBlock，overthedrugstore。Larry，thedoctor’sman，hadlittheoverheadlightinthewaiting—roomandthedoublestudent’slamponthedeskinthestudy。Theisinglasssidesofthehard—coalburnerwereaglow，andtheairinthestudywassohotthatashecameinthedoctoropenedthedoorintohislittleoperating—room，wheretherewasnostove。Thewaiting—
roomwascarpetedandstifflyfurnished，somethinglikeacountryparlor。Thestudyhadworn，unpaintedfloors，buttherewasalookofwintercomfortaboutit。Thedoctor’sflat—topdeskwaslargeandwellmade；thepaperswereinorderlypiles，underglassweights。Behindthestoveawidebookcase，withdoubleglassdoors，reachedfromthefloortotheceiling。Itwasfilledwithmedicalbooksofeverythicknessandcolor。Onthetopshelfstoodalongrowofthirtyorfortyvolumes，boundallalikeindarkmottledboardcovers，withimitationleatherbacks。
AsthedoctorinNewEnglandvillagesisproverbiallyold，sothedoctorinsmallColoradotownstwenty—fiveyearsagowasgenerallyyoung。Dr。Archiewasbarelythirty。Hewastall，withmassiveshoulderswhichheheldstiffly，andalarge，well—shapedhead。Hewasadistin—
guished—lookingman，forthatpartoftheworld，atleast。
Therewassomethingindividualinthewayinwhichhisreddish—brownhair，partedcleanlyattheside，bushedoverhishighforehead。Hisnosewasstraightandthick，andhiseyeswereintelligent。Heworeacurly，reddishmustacheandanimperial，cuttrimly，whichmadehimlookalittlelikethepicturesofNapoleonIII。Hishandswerelargeandwellkept，butruggedlyformed，andthebackswereshadedwithcrinklyreddishhair。Heworeabluesuitofwoolly，wide—waledserge；thetravelingmenhadknownataglancethatitwasmadebyaDenvertailor。Thedoctorwasal—
wayswelldressed。
Dr。Archieturnedupthestudent’slampandsatdownintheswivelchairbeforehisdesk。Hesatuneasily，beatingatattooonhiskneeswithhisfingers，andlookedabouthimasifhewerebored。Heglancedathiswatch，thenabsentlytookfromhispocketabunchofsmallkeys，selectedoneandlookedatit。Acontemptuoussmile，barelypercepti—
ble，playedonhislips，buthiseyesremainedmeditative。
Behindthedoorthatledintothehall，underhisbuffalo—
skindriving—coat，wasalockedcupboard。Thisthedoctoropenedmechanically，kickingasideapileofmuddyover—
shoes。Inside，ontheshelves，werewhiskeyglassesanddecanters，lemons，sugar，andbitters。Hearingastepintheempty，echoinghallwithout，thedoctorclosedthecup—
boardagain，snappingtheYalelock。Thedoorofthewaiting—roomopened，amanenteredandcameonintotheconsulting—room。
"Good—evening，Mr。Kronborg，"saidthedoctorcare—
lessly。"Sitdown。"
Hisvisitorwasatall，looselybuiltman，withathinbrownbeard，streakedwithgray。Heworeafrockcoat，abroad—brimmedblackhat，awhitelawnnecktie，andsteel—
rimmedspectacles。Altogethertherewasapretentiousandimportantairabouthim，asheliftedtheskirtsofhiscoatandsatdown。
"Good—evening，doctor。Canyousteparoundtothe
housewithme？IthinkMrs。Kronborgwillneedyouthisevening。"Thiswassaidwithprofoundgravityand，curi—
ouslyenough，withaslightembarrassment。
"Anyhurry？"thedoctoraskedoverhisshoulderashewentintohisoperating—room。
Mr。Kronborgcoughedbehindhishand，andcontractedhisbrows。Hisfacethreatenedateverymomenttobreakintoasmileoffoolishexcitement。Hecontrolleditonlybycallinguponhishabitualpulpitmanner。"Well，Ithinkitwouldbeaswelltogoimmediately。Mrs。Kronborgwillbemorecomfortableifyouarethere。Shehasbeensufferingforsometime。"
Thedoctorcamebackandthrewablackbaguponhisdesk。Hewrotesomeinstructionsforhismanonapre—
scriptionpadandthendrewonhisovercoat。"Allready，"
heannounced，puttingouthislamp。Mr。Kronborgroseandtheytrampedthroughtheemptyhallanddownthestairwaytothestreet。Thedrugstorebelowwasdark，andthesaloonnextdoorwasjustclosing。EveryotherlightonMainStreetwasout。
Oneithersideoftheroadandattheouteredgeoftheboardsidewalk，thesnowhadbeenshoveledintobreast—
works。Thetownlookedsmallandblack，flatteneddowninthesnow，muffledandallbutextinguished。Overheadthestarsshonegloriously。Itwasimpossiblenottonoticethem。TheairwassoclearthatthewhitesandhillstotheeastofMoonstonegleamedsoftly。FollowingtheReverendMr。Kronborgalongthenarrowwalk，pastthelittledark，sleepinghouses，thedoctorlookedupattheflashingnightandwhistledsoftly。Itdidseemthatpeoplewerestupiderthantheyneedbe；asifonanightlikethisthereoughttobesomethingbettertodothantosleepninehours，ortoassistMrs。Kronborginfunctionswhichshecouldhaveperformedsoadmirablyunaided。HewishedhehadgonedowntoDenvertohearFayTempletonsing"See—Saw。"
Thenherememberedthathehadapersonalinterestinthis
family，afterall。Theyturnedintoanotherstreetandsawbeforethemlightedwindows；alowstory—and—a—halfhouse，withawingbuiltonattherightandakitchenadditionattheback，everythingalittleontheslant——roofs，windows，anddoors。Astheyapproachedthegate，PeterKron—
borg’spacegrewbrisker。Hisnervous，ministerialcoughannoyedthedoctor。"Exactlyasifheweregoingtogiveoutatext，"hethought。Hedrewoffhisgloveandfeltinhisvestpocket。"Haveatroche，Kronborg，"hesaid，producingsome。"Sentmeforsamples。Verygoodforaroughthroat。"
"Ah，thankyou，thankyou。Iwasinsomethingofahurry。Ineglectedtoputonmyovershoes。Hereweare，doctor。"Kronborgopenedhisfrontdoor——seemedde—
lightedtobeathomeagain。
Thefronthallwasdarkandcold；thehatrackwashungwithanastonishingnumberofchildren’shatsandcapsandcloaks。Theywereevenpiledonthetablebeneaththehatrack。Underthetablewasaheapofrubbersandover—
shoes。Whilethedoctorhunguphiscoatandhat，PeterKronborgopenedthedoorintotheliving—room。Aglareoflightgreetedthem，andarushofhot，staleair，smellingofwarmingflannels。
Atthreeo’clockinthemorningDr。Archiewasintheparlorputtingonhiscuffsandcoat——therewasnosparebedroominthathouse。PeterKronborg’sseventhchild，aboy，wasbeingsoothedandcossetedbyhisaunt，Mrs。
Kronborgwasasleep，andthedoctorwasgoinghome。ButhewantedfirsttospeaktoKronborg，who，coatlessandfluttery，waspouringcoalintothekitchenstove。Asthedoctorcrossedthedining—roomhepausedandlistened。
Fromoneofthewingrooms，offtotheleft，heheardrapid，distressedbreathing。Hewenttothekitchendoor。
"Oneofthechildrensickinthere？"heasked，noddingtowardthepartition。
Kronborghungupthestove—lifteranddustedhisfingers。
"ItmustbeThea。Imeanttoaskyoutolookather。Shehasacroupycold。Butinmyexcitement——Mrs。Kronborgisdoingfinely，eh，doctor？Notmanyofyourpatientswithsuchaconstitution，Iexpect。"
"Oh，yes。She’safinemother。"Thedoctortookupthelampfromthekitchentableandunceremoniouslywentintothewingroom。Twochubbylittleboyswereasleepinadoublebed，withthecoverlidsovertheirnosesandtheirfeetdrawnup。Inasinglebed，nexttotheirs，layalittlegirlofeleven，wideawake，twoyellowbraidsstickinguponthepillowbehindher。Herfacewasscarletandhereyeswereblazing。
Thedoctorshutthedoorbehindhim。"Feelprettysick，Thea？"heaskedashetookouthisthermometer。"Whydidn’tyoucallsomebody？"
Shelookedathimwithgreedyaffection。"Ithoughtyouwerehere，"shespokebetweenquickbreaths。"Thereisanewbaby，isn’tthere？Which？"
"Which？"repeatedthedoctor。
"Brotherorsister？"
Hesmiledandsatdownontheedgeofthebed。"Bro—
ther，"hesaid，takingherhand。"Open。"
"Good。Brothersarebetter，"shemurmuredasheputtheglasstubeunderhertongue。
"Now，bestill，Iwanttocount。"Dr。Archiereachedforherhandandtookouthiswatch。Whenheputherhandbackunderthequilthewentovertooneofthewin—
dows——theywerebothtightshut——andlifteditalittleway。Hereachedupandranhishandalongthecold，un—
paperedwall。"Keepunderthecovers；I’llcomebacktoyouinamoment，"hesaid，bendingovertheglasslampwithhisthermometer。Hewinkedatherfromthedoorbeforeheshutit。
PeterKronborgwassittinginhiswife’sroom，holdingthebundlewhichcontainedhisson。Hisairofcheerful
importance，hisbeardandglasses，evenhisshirt—sleeves，annoyedthedoctor。HebeckonedKronborgintotheliv—
ing—roomandsaidsternly：——
"You’vegotaverysickchildinthere。Whydidn’tyoucallmebefore？It’spneumonia，andshemusthavebeensickforseveraldays。Putthebabydownsomewhere，please，andhelpmemakeupthebed—loungehereintheparlor。She’sgottobeinawarmroom，andshe’sgottobequiet。Youmustkeeptheotherchildrenout。Here，thisthingopensup，Isee，"swingingbackthetopofthecar—
petlounge。"Wecanlifthermattressandcarryherinjustassheis。Idon’twanttodisturbhermorethanisnecessary。"
Kronborgwasallconcernimmediately。Thetwomentookupthemattressandcarriedthesickchildintotheparlor。