Whatever caused it, the fact was that on the ride home Elliott began to feel very sick. The longer she rode the sicker she felt and the more appalled and ashamed and frightened she grew. What could be going to happen to her? And what awful exhibition was she about to make of herself before all these people to whom she had felt so superior?
Before long people noticed how white she was and by the time the wagon reached the brick house at the cross-roads poor Elliott hardly cared if they did see it. Her pride was crushed by her misery. Mrs. Gordon and Harriet came out to welcome Alma home and they hesitated not a minute.
"Have them bring her right in here, Jessica. No, no, not a mite of trouble! We'll keep her all night. You go right along home, you and Laura. Mercy me, if we can't do a little thing like this for you folks! She'll be all right in the morning."
The words meant nothing to Elliott. She was quite beyond caring where she went, so that it was to a bed, flat and still and unmoving. But even in her distress she was conscious that, whatever came of it, she had had a good time.
Elliott was wretchedly, miserably ill. She despised herself for it and then she lost even the sensation of self contempt in utter misery. She didn't care about anything--who helped her undress or where the undressing was done or what happened to her. Mercifully nobody talked; it would have killed her, she thought, to have to try to talk. They didn't even ask her how she felt. They only moved about quietly and did things. They put her to bed and gave her something to drink, after which for a time she didn't care if she did die; in fact, she rather hoped she would; and then the disgusting things happened and she felt worse and worse and then--oh wonder!--she began to feel better. Actually, it was sheer bliss just to lie quiet and feel how comfortable she was.
"I am so sorry!" she murmured apologetically to a presence beside the bed. "I have made you a horrid lot of trouble."
"Not a bit," said the presence, quietly. "So don't you begin worrying about that."
And she didn't worry. It seemed impossible to worry about anything just then.
"I feel lots better," she remarked, after a while.
"That's right. I thought you would. Now I'm going to telephone your Aunt Jessica that you feel better, and you just lie quiet and go to sleep. Then you will feel better still. I'll put the bell right here beside the bed. If you want anything, tap it."