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It was near noon of a bright warm day early in October. Mrs. Keith was alone in her pretty sitting-room, busily plying her needle at the open window looking out upon the river.
Occasionally she lifted her head and sent a quick, admiring glance at its bright, swiftly-flowing waters and the woods beyond, beautiful and gorgeous in their rich autumnal robes.
There was a drowsy hum of insects in the air; and mingling with it the cackle of a rejoicing hen, the crowing of a cock and other rural sounds; the prattle of childish voices too came pleasantly to her ear, from the garden behind the house where the little ones were at play, [6]calling, once and again, a tender, motherly smile to her lips.
Yet a slight cloud of care rested on her usually calm and placid features and thought seemed very busy in her brain.
It was of Mildred she was thinking. Father and mother both had noticed with a good deal of anxiety, that the young girl did not recover fully from the severe strain of the long weeks of nursing that had fallen to her lot during the past summer.
She was mush paler and thinner than her wont, had frequent headaches and seemed weak and languid, a very little exertion causing excessive fatigue.
Only last night they had lain awake an hour or more talking about it, and consulting together as to what could be done for the "dear child."
They feared the severity of the coming winter would increase her malady, and wished very much that they could send her away for some months, or a year, to a milder climate; but the difficulty - apparently an insuperable one - was to find means.
It took no small amount to feed, clothe and educate such a family as theirs, and sickness had made this year one of unusual expense.
Genre: Literary Fiction
Occasionally she lifted her head and sent a quick, admiring glance at its bright, swiftly-flowing waters and the woods beyond, beautiful and gorgeous in their rich autumnal robes.
There was a drowsy hum of insects in the air; and mingling with it the cackle of a rejoicing hen, the crowing of a cock and other rural sounds; the prattle of childish voices too came pleasantly to her ear, from the garden behind the house where the little ones were at play, [6]calling, once and again, a tender, motherly smile to her lips.
Yet a slight cloud of care rested on her usually calm and placid features and thought seemed very busy in her brain.
It was of Mildred she was thinking. Father and mother both had noticed with a good deal of anxiety, that the young girl did not recover fully from the severe strain of the long weeks of nursing that had fallen to her lot during the past summer.
She was mush paler and thinner than her wont, had frequent headaches and seemed weak and languid, a very little exertion causing excessive fatigue.
Only last night they had lain awake an hour or more talking about it, and consulting together as to what could be done for the "dear child."
They feared the severity of the coming winter would increase her malady, and wished very much that they could send her away for some months, or a year, to a milder climate; but the difficulty - apparently an insuperable one - was to find means.
It took no small amount to feed, clothe and educate such a family as theirs, and sickness had made this year one of unusual expense.
Genre: Literary Fiction
Used availability for Martha Finley's Mildred At Roselands