Kitty remained quite quiet a moment looking at him; then she came closer within the curtains and laid her hand—a very warm brown plump one—on the wee white hand lying outside the red coverlid.
“Johnnie!” she whispered, and the name came as if the little heart would burst if it was not spoken.
Johnnie opened his eyes, looked blankly and queerly at her, then at once closed them again.
“Johnnie, speak to me!” urged Kitty with a sob.
Thus appealed to, Johnnie once more opened his eyes wider and wider, till the white wasted face seemed to become all blue eyes. Still he gazed blankly at his visitor in the night-gown; gradually his look brightened, he began to smile, the smile broadened into a laugh.
“Kitty!” he exclaimed in a glad feeble whisper.
“I ought not to have waked you,” said Kitty, in a quivering voice; “but they have not let me near you for nine days. I have counted them—nine “Poor old Kitsy!” whispered Johnnie; and up went the tiny hot hand in an effort to stroke Kitty’s cheek. “They will send me away now if they find me,” continued Kitty, shaking with a burst of tears. “Mother is lying down. I heard nurse go downstairs—and so—and so—” Here the heaving of the little bosom, and the quick motion of the chin up and down, checked further speech. Johnnie panted a moment on his pillow before he said: