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Rh tray with Mary’s breakfast that morning. Jane and Florimel almost quarrelled with her for driving them off, but Anne was relentless.

“She’s been my child all her seventeen, going on eighteen, years, and I fed her and cared for her through every sickness she had. Now she’s asked for food I shall get her first breakfast ready, and that’s the end of it. You keep in mind how bad you wanted to do it, when you couldn’t, and wait on her hand and foot when you can, later on, when she’s getting about and tries to do for you two more than she should,” Anne delivered her ultimatum as she bustled about, getting out the little squat wedgewood teapot, the cream jug and sugar bowl that Mary had loved best as a child, and had called “Mr. and Mrs. Dumpie Short,” affectionately.

It did not need Doctor Hall’s beaming face to tell the Garden household that Mary was better and was to stay with them. Nevertheless that look on his face was a joy to see, after the anxiety that had been knitting it.

“The best of the Garden girls is going to live on, Jane and Florimel,” he said.

“With the worst of them!” cried Florimel, in a burst of happy tears. “Jane and I don’t