"Too much party, no doubt," was his inward commentary when he received the summons; and his first words to Milly were, "Well, Missy, so you are down with fruit cake and mottoes, are you?"
"Oh, Doctor, no, I never ate a mouthful of the cake. I only made it," was poor Milly's disclaimer.
"That sounds serious," said the doctor. But when he had felt her pulse he looked graver.
"You've done a good deal too much of something, that is evident," he said. "I shall have to keep you in bed awhile to pay you for it."
Milly was forced to submit. She stayed in bed for a whole week and the greater part of another, missing thereby two candy-pulls on which her heart was set, and the best sleighing frolic of the season. Everybody was kind about coming to see her, and sending her flowers and nice things, and Janet, in particular, spent whole hours with her every day.
"The whole thing seems such a dreadful pity," Milly said one day. She was really better now, able to sit up, and equal to a calm discussion of her woes. "I had looked forward so much to my party, and I wanted to have it as nice as could be, and I worked so hard; and then, when the time came, I didn't enjoy it a bit. If I could only have it over again now when I am all rested and fresh, I should have as good a time as anybody. Doesn't it seem a pity, Janet?"
"Yes, it does," replied Janet, after which she fell into a little musing-fit.
"One can't have company without taking some trouble," she said at last. "But I wonder if one need take so much?"
"I don't see what else I could have done," said Milly. "You must give people nice things when they come to see you, and somebody has got to make them. And besides that, there is so much to see to about the house,--dusting, and washing china, and making the rooms nice."
"I know," went on Janet reflectively. "Mrs. Beers half killed herself, I remember, when she had that quilting two years ago, in giving the whole house a thorough house-cleaning beforehand. She said as like as not somebody would want to run up into the garret-chamber after something, and she should have a fit if it wasn't in order. And after all, not a soul went anywhere except to the parlor and dining-room, and into Mrs. Beers's bedroom to take off their things; so the fuss was all thrown away, and Mrs. Beers had inflammation of the lungs afterward, and almost died."