proved rather embarrassing to Miss Henny, and very amusing to Roxy, listening in the china-closet.
"I wish I had 'spepsia," was the abrupt remark of the small person as her plate of drumsticks was removed and the pudding appeared, accompanied by the cherries.
"Why, dear?" asked Miss Henny, busily arranging the small dish of delicate tidbits, which left little but the skeleton of the roast fowl for the kitchen.
"Then I could have the nicest bits of chicken, and heaps of sauce on my pudding, and the butteryest slices of toast, and all the cream for my tea, as you do. It isn't a very bad pain, is it?" asked Rosy, in such perfect good faith that Miss Henny's sudden flush and Roxy's hasty dive into the closet never suggested to her that this innocent speech was bringing the old lady's besetting sin to light in the most open manner.
"Yes, child, it is very bad, and you may thank your stars that I try to keep you from it by feeding you on plain food. At my age, and suffering as I do, the best of everything is needed to keep up my strength," said Miss Henny, tartly. But the largest plate of pudding, with "heaps of sauce," went to the child this day, and when the fruit was served, an unusually small portion was put away for the invalid, who was obliged to sustain nature with frequent lunches through the day and evening.
"I'm s'prised that you suffer much, Cousin Henny. How brave you must be, not to cry about it, and go round in horrid pain, as you do, and dress so nicely,
