A tiny thing--only lived two hours, and the mother herself almost went with it.

After a while she was better; but one day she got up out of bed, dressed herself without saying a word to any one, and went out.

It was a drizzly day; a little time after some one saw her sitting on the wet ground under the bluegum-tree, with the rain dripping from her hat and shawl.

They went to fetch her, but she would not come until she chose.

When she did, she had gone to bed and had not risen again from it; never would, the doctor said.
She was very patient, poor thing.