"Can't you drink it?" he asked. "Do, if you possibly can," he

urged. "You'll get so weak you'll be helpless."

"I just can't," said Kate. "Things have such a sickening,

sweetish taste, or they are bitter, or sour; not a thing is as it

used to be. I simply can't!"

A curious look crept over George's face. He picked up the bowl

and tasted the contents. Instantly his face went black; he

started toward the kitchen. Kate heard part of what happened, but

she never lifted her head. After a while he came back with more

broth and a plate of delicate toast.

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"Try this," he said. "I made it myself."

Kate ate ravenously.

"That's good!" she cried.

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do," he said. "I'm going to take

you out to Aunt Ollie's for a week after school to-night. Want to

go?"

"Yes! Oh, yes!" cried Kate.

"All right," he said. "I know where I can borrow a rig for an

hour. Get ready if you are well enough, if you are not, I'll help

you after school."

That week with Aunt Ollie remained a bright spot in Kate's memory.

The October days were beginning to be crisp and cool. Food was

different. She could sleep, she could eat many things Aunt Ollie

knew to prepare especially; soon she could walk and be outdoors.

She was so much better she wrote George a note, asking him to walk

out and bring her sewing basket, and some goods she listed, and in

the afternoons the two women cut and sewed quaint, enticing little

garments. George found Kate so much better when he came that he

proposed she remain another week. Then for the first time he

talked to her about her theory of government and teaching, until

she realized that the School Director had told him he was

dissatisfied with him -- so George was trying to learn her ways.

Appalled at what might happen if he lost the school, Kate made

notes, talked at length, begged him to do his best, and to come at

once if anything went wrong. He did come, and brought the school

books so she went over the lessons with him, and made marginal

notes of things suggested to her mind by the text, for him to

discuss and elucidate. The next time he came, he was in such good

spirits she knew his work had been praised, so after that they

went over the lessons together each evening. Thinking of what

would help him also helped fill her day.

He took her home, greatly improved, in much better spirits, to her

room, cleaned and ready for winter, with all of her things

possible to use in place, so that it was much changed, prettier,

and more convenient. As they drove in she said of him: "George,

what about it? Did your mother purposely fix my food so I could

not eat it?"




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