Marilla recalled seeing the nurse brought down stairs on a stretcher, they called it. And the doctor said she could never walk again. Oh, how dreadful that would be. She turned her face over on the pillow and let the tears drop silently, and she could not swallow any supper, something lay so heavy on her breast. Miss Armitage kissed her, and Marilla twined her arms around the soft white neck hardly hidden by the lace. There had never been any one to love during the later years. And her mother had been busy and away in a store.
“Don’t worry, dear,” said the soothing voice. “God takes care of us all.”
The sun was shining the next morning and the next door canary hanging out on the back 92 porch was singing with all his might and main. Such long sweet warbles, such a merry staccato with little pauses, as if he asked—“Now, what do you think of that?” and the child laughed with a sense of glee. Oh, how nice it would be to be a bird. But she wouldn’t want to live in a cage all the time.
Jane came and gave her a bath, rubbed her softly but thoroughly across the hips and up and down the spine, holding her up with one strong arm. Marilla took a frightened step, then another and laughingly flung her arms around Jane’s neck, crying—
“Oh, I can walk! I can walk!”
“Why did you think you could never walk again?” Jane laughed wholesomely.
“I felt so queer—and I thought of the woman at the Home.”
“But she must have been quite an old body. They do get paralyzed; children don’t. Oh, you must not think of dreadful things. Come, see how you can walk.”
Jane’s arm was around her and she led her back to the room and dressed her. Miss Armitage came up just then and greeted her 93 with a happy smile. But Marilla felt shaky and was very glad to sit down on the couch.
“Now I shall bring you up some breakfast,” said Jane.