Fritz sang for her sometimes, for Fritz could sing even before he was able to form words. At last she was roused. “Great. “Anna, you are the dearest, bravest sister in the world,” she cried. ‘Your niece, ma’am. She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. “Please make yourselves comfortable while I see to the coffee. But there have been times, Anna, when your work has startled me. The doctor walked over to the bed, folded his arms across his chest and stared down into the unabashed eyes of his patient. And, lastly, to the Seven Cities o' Refuge, in the New Mint. Wood will protect you," urged Mrs. "Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence.
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