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soothing to be sung to when their heads ached. Mrs. Arrow had a kind of headache pill which she had always found more efficacious than aspirin, and would be delighted to bring one to Elizabeth; Mrs. Arrow herself always took two of these pills, but felt that Elizabeth had better not at first venture more than one. Aunt Morgen thought that Elizabeth should have her eyes examined, because these headaches came so often, and Mr. Arrow told about the headaches he had had before he got
his
glasses. Mrs. Arrow said that she would be very happy to go and get Elizabeth one of her headache pills if Elizabeth thought it would help and Elizabeth said untruthfully that she felt better now, thank you. Because everyone was looking at her she picked up the glass of sherry which Mr. Arrow had poured for her, and sipped at it daintily, loathing the underneath bitter taste of it, and feeling her head swim sickeningly.
    â€œâ€”to breed Edmund,” Mrs. Arrow was saying to Aunt Morgen. “It seems like a long way to go, of course, but we felt, Vergil and I, that it was worth it.”
    â€œGot to take a lot of care with that kind of thing,” Mr. Arrow said.
    â€œI remember,” Aunt Morgen began, “when I was about sixteen—”
    â€œElizabeth,” Mrs. Arrow said, “are you
sure
you feel all right?”
    Everyone turned again and looked at her, and Elizabeth, sipping at her sherry, said, “I feel fine now, really.”
    â€œI don’t like the way that girl looks,” Mrs. Arrow said to Aunt Morgen, and shook her head worriedly, “she doesn’t look well, Morgen.”
    â€œPeaked,” Mr. Arrow amplified.
    â€œShe used to be strong as a horse,” Aunt Morgen said, turning to look intently at Elizabeth. “Lately she’s been getting these headaches and backaches and she hasn’t been sleeping at all well.”
    â€œGrowing pains,” Mrs. Arrow said tentatively, as though there was still a chance that it might turn out to be something worse. “She could be working too hard, too.”
    â€œYoung girls,” Mr. Arrow said profoundly.
    â€œHow old
is
Elizabeth?” Mrs. Arrow asked. “Sometimes when a girl spends too much of her time alone. . . .” She gestured delicately, and dropped her eyes.
    â€œI’m all right,” Elizabeth said uneasily.
    â€œFanciful,” Mr. Arrow said, with a gesture reminiscent of Mrs. Arrow’s. “Wrong ideas,” he added.
    â€œI’ve been wondering if she ought to see Doctor Ryan,” Aunt Morgen said. “This business of not sleeping. . . .”
    â€œAlways just as well to go with the
first
symptoms,” Mrs. Arrow said firmly. “You never know what might turn up
later.
”
    â€œGeneral check-up,” said Mr. Arrow roundly.
    â€œI think so,” Aunt Morgen said. She sighed and then smiled at Mr. and Mrs. Arrow. “It’s a great responsibility,” she said, “my own sister’s child, and yet it’s not as though I’ve been much of a
mother.
”
    â€œ
No
one could have been more conscientious,” Mrs. Arrow declared, immediately and positively. “Morgen, you must
not,
you simply must
not,
blame yourself; you’ve done a
splendid
job. Vergil?”
    â€œFine job,” said Mr. Arrow hastily. “Often thought about it.”
    â€œI’ve always tried to think of her as though she was my own,” Aunt Morgen said, and the sudden quick smile she sent across the room to Elizabeth made the words almost pathetic, because they were true. Elizabeth smiled back, and rubbed her neck against the chair.
    â€œâ€”Edmund,” Mrs. Arrow was saying.
    â€œBut I don’t understand,” Aunt Morgen said. “Was the mother brown?”
    â€œApricot,” Mrs. Arrow said reprovingly.
    â€œThat was why we had to go so far out of town,” Mr. Arrow explained. “We wanted to get just the
right
color