Ethie's favorite loaf cake was
constantly kept on hand, and when Betty suggested that they should let
Uncle Billy cut down that caraway seed, "and heave it away," the good
soul objected, thinking there was no telling what would happen, and it
was well enough to save such things as anise and caraway. So, in her big
cape bonnet, she was cutting her branches of herbs, when Charlie Howard
looked over the garden gate with "Got a letter for you."
"It ain't from her. It's from--why, it's from Richard, and he is in
Davenport," Aunt Barbara exclaimed, as she sat down in a garden chair to
read the letter which was not from Ethie.
Richard did not say directly to her that she must come, but Aunt Barbara
felt an innate conviction that her presence would not be disagreeable,
even if Ethie lived, while "if she died," and Aunt Barbara's heart gave
a great throb as she thought it, "if Ethie died she must be there," and
so her trunk was packed for the third time in Ethie's behalf, and the
next day's train from Boston carried the good woman on her way to
Davenport.
CHAPTER XXXIX
RECONCILIATION
There had been a succession of rainy days in Davenport--dark, rainy
days, which added to the gloom hanging over that house where they
watched so intently by Ethie's side, trembling lest the life they prayed
for so earnestly might go out at any moment, so high the fever ran, and
so wild and restless the patient grew.
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