She's sleeping yet, the dear kid, and I hope she'll sleep till lunch time.

There isn't anything the matter with us but the war; but that's enough, Heaven knows.

It's the worst ailment that has ever struck me.

Then, if you add to that this dark, wet, foggy, sooty, cold, penetrating climate--you ought to thank your stars that you are not in it.

I'm glad your mother's out of it, as much as we miss her; and miss her?
Good gracious! there's no telling the hole her absence makes in all our life.