Johnnie nodded.
“What was he like?” asked Kitty, pressing nearer up against the bed.
“He was just like me,” answered Johnnie, looking straight before him, as if he were seeing there what he described; “only his two legs were both the same size—so he had no crutch, and he had a rosy face.”
“How was he dressed?” asked Kitty, growing more curious.
“He had a rainbow sort of a coat on,” replied Johnnie, “and he had two little pink wings. I thought he had come, perhaps, because I was going to die—and he wanted to show me that in heaven I was to have two legs the same size, and no crutch.”
“Oh—o-oh!” cried Kitty, her tears gushing out anew.
“Don’t cry, Kitsy,” the little panting voice resumed. “When I die I want you to have my cake of gamboge, my rose-pink, my India-ink, and my two sable brushes.”
“But you are not going to die,” cried Kitty, giving the bed a shake as she plumped against it. “To-morrow is Christmas Day, and you are to be much better to-morrow. Oh, Johnnie!” she added, wiping away her tears, “I have such a present for you: something you wanted ever, ever so much!”
“Is it another go-cart to take fancy drives in?” asked Johnnie eagerly.
“A go-cart! No!” answered Kitty scornfully.