She was speaking with a nervous quickness as if her fever had almost reached delirium.
"I was trying to dig one of those roads," wailed Betty, in a high, querulous voice.

"One that would last for ever, don't you know?
like the one they built for Tusitala.

You _do_ know, don't you ?" she insisted, feverishly, but Joyce had to acknowledge that she had never heard of it, and Betty cried again, because she felt too nervous and ill to explain.
"There, there! never mind!" said Joyce, soothingly, thinking that Betty's mind was wandering.

"You can tell me all about it when you get well." "But I want you to know _now_!" sobbed Betty, with all the unreasoning impatience of a sick child.

"It is all in my 'Good times book.' I cut it out of an old _Youth's Companion_, just after I came, and the piece is inside the cover of that little white and gold book in the writing-desk.