Margaret was settled in the right posture, but the pain would not immediately depart, and Dr.May soon found out that she had a headache, of which he knew he was at least as guilty as Etheldred could be.
Nothing could be done but keep her quiet, and Ethel went away to be miserable; Flora tried to comfort her by saying it was unfortunate, but no doubt there was a knack, and everyone could not manage those things; Margaret was easier now, and as to papa's anger, he did not always mean all he said.
But consolation came at bedtime; Margaret received her with open arms when she went to wish her goodnight.

"My poor Ethel," she said, holding her close, "I am sorry I have made such a fuss." "Oh, you did not, it was too bad of me--I am grieved; are you quite comfortable now ?" "Yes, quite, only a little headache, which I shall sleep off.

It has been so nice and quiet.

Papa took up George Herbert, and has been reading me choice bits.

I don't think I have enjoyed anything so much since I have been ill." "I am glad of that, but I have been unhappy all the evening.