What are you laughing at

　　"What are you laughing at?" she asked her.
　　"At you two young ones," said the nurse. "It's the bestthing that could happen to the sickly pampered thingto have some one to stand up to him that's as spoiledas himself;" and she laughed into her handkerchief again.
　　"If he'd had a young vixen of a sister to fight with itwould have been the saving of him.""Is he going to die?""I don't know and I don't care," said the nurse.
　　"Hysterics and temper are half what ails him.""What are hysterics?" asked Mary.
　　"You'll find out if you work him into a tantrum afterthis--but at any rate you've given him something to havehysterics about, and I'm glad of it."Mary went back to her room not feeling at all as shehad felt when she had come in from the garden,UGG Clerance. She wascross and disappointed but not at all sorry for Colin.
　　She had looked forward to telling him a great many thingsand she had meant to try to make up her mind whetherit would be safe to trust him with the great secret.
　　She had been beginning to think it would be, but now shehad changed her mind entirely. She would never tell himand he could stay in his room and never get any freshair and die if he liked! It would serve him right! Shefelt so sour and unrelenting that for a few minutes shealmost forgot about Dickon and the green veil creepingover the world and the soft wind blowing down fromthe moor.
　　Martha was waiting for her and the trouble in her facehad been temporarily replaced by interest and curiosity,replica gucci handbags.
　　There was a wooden box on the table and its cover had beenremoved and revealed that it was full of neat packages.
　　"Mr. Craven sent it to you," said Martha. "It looksas if it had picture-books in it."Mary remembered what he had asked her the day she had goneto his room. "Do you want anything--dolls--toys --books,cheap designer handbags?"She opened the package wondering if he had sent a doll,and also wondering what she should do with it if he had.
　　But he had not sent one. There were several beautifulbooks such as Colin had, and two of them were about gardensand were full of pictures. There were two or three gamesand there was a beautiful little writing-case with a goldmonogram on it and a gold pen and inkstand.
　　Everything was so nice that her pleasure began to crowdher anger out of her mind. She had not expected himto remember her at all and her hard little heart grewquite warm.
　　"I can write better than I can print," she said,"and the first thing I shall write with that pen willbe a letter to tell him I am much obliged."If she had been friends with Colin she would have run to showhim her presents at once, and they would have looked at thepictures and read some of the gardening books and perhapstried playing the games, and he would have enjoyed himselfso much he would never once have thought he was goingto die or have put his hand on his spine to see if therewas a lump coming,knockoff handbags. He had a way of doing that which shecould not bear. It gave her an uncomfortable frightenedfeeling because he always looked so frightened himself.
　　He said that if he felt even quite a little lumpsome day he should know his hunch had begun to grow.