As I worked, and looked, and thought, there came into my mind words of gentle rebuke—“O thou of little faith, wherefore dost thou doubt?”
Yet still I went on doubting. For mingled with the pain of anxiety was another pain—more like pain of jealousy. Why should my Jack sit there, watching Maimie with such fixed grieved eyes? Of course we were all sorry for Maimie—quite sorry enough. I could have pitied her tenderly—but for Jack. I did not like my Jack to wear that look to anybody except myself.
And I was wrong. I knew it even then; I know it better now. What! was I to demand a monopoly of my boy’s heart? He loved me none the less because he gave love also to this forlorn child cast into our midst. What business had I with miserable jealousy?
[CHAPTER X.]
DRAWING TOGETHER.
JACK stole presently to my side and whispered in distress,—“Mother, she’s no better. Oughtn’t we to have a doctor?”
“We will try home remedies first,” I said, “as soon as Maimie will go upstairs. I don’t suppose it is anything serious.” Yet my heart misgave me as I spoke.
“Mother, you wouldn’t take it so quietly if it was one of us!” whispered Jack.
And I knew this was true, but I said—
“You would not refuse to do what I wish.”