She felt feverish, just to the extent of being very sleepy and at her
ease. She rang her bell and issued her commands.
"A little of the _volaille_," she said, "with a spoonful of soup
before it.... No, no meat; but a custard or so, and a little fruit.
Oh! yes, Charlotte, and tell Miss Maggie not to come and see me after
dinner."
It seemed that the message had roused the dear girl at last, for
Maggie appeared ten minutes later in quite a different mood. There was
really some animation in her face.
"Dear Auntie, I am so very sorry.... Yes; do go to bed, and breakfast
there in the morning too. I'm just writing to Laurie, by the way."
Mrs. Baxter nodded sleepily from her deep chair.
"He's coming down in Easter week, isn't he?"
"So he says, my dear."
"Why shouldn't he come next week instead, Auntie, and be with us for
Easter? You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Very nice indeed, dear child; but don't bother the boy."
"And you don't think it's influenza?" put in Maggie swiftly, laying a
cool hand on the old lady's.
She maintained it was not. It was just a little chill, such as she had
had this time last year: and it became necessary to rouse herself a
little to enumerate the symptoms.
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