I'll--I'll get something to do.
I'm not worrying.

There's nothing to worry about." She stooped down and tenderly kissed the wrinkled forehead.
A vague fear clutched at the Old Lady's heart.
"Then, Juliana, you are not well.

Hadn't you better see"-- she hesitated--pausing with unwonted delicacy for her words--"a doctor ?" "I don't want to see a doctor.

There is nothing the matter with me." And still insisting that there was nothing the matter with her, she went to bed.
And old Martha had come with her early morning croak to call Miss Juliana; she had dumped down the hot-water can in the basin with a clash, pulled up the blind with a jerk, and drawn back the curtains with a clatter, before she noticed that Miss Juliana was up all the time.

Up and dressed, and sitting in her chair by the hearth, warming her feet at an imaginary fire.
She had been sitting up all night, for her bed was as Martha had left it the night before.