“Why, she’s grown dreadfully thin. Yes, she must have been very ill, but like the babies, 110 she’d always been well. I’m awful sorry. I don’t know what we shall do. Mrs. Borden had counted so on her coming. And she said over half a dozen times that I must not forget to thank you for all this kindness. You must send me the doctor’s bill. She’s such a nice child, Miss Armitage.”
Marilla stirred and opened her eyes, closed them sighed and opened them again, then half murmured—“Oh, doctor,” and started.
“Marilla, child, don’t you remember Mr. Borden?”
“I had not told her about your coming. We keep her as tranquil as possible.”
“Oh, Mr. Borden!” Marilla sat up. “And the babies?”
“The babies are in a very poor way, Marilla. They certainly are homesick for you. We try to keep them comforted with the promise of you. Oh, I hoped you would be well enough to go down with me this afternoon. Their mother will be telling them you will surely come. Poor little girl, but you are going to get well, aren’t you? And Jack thinks there’s no fun without you, and no one to read to him or tell him stories.” 111
The child gave a vague smile. She was very glad to be away from Jack; indeed, sick babies did not appear attractive to her just now, but she said—
“Oh, I’m very sorry. The doctor said it was the heat and––”
“It was awfully hot that week. That made the babies worse. Oh, if I could take you down just to amuse them. You made them laugh so, Marilla. You know just how to do it. Well—it can’t be helped, but you must try to get well and have some good of the pretty country place. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Miss Armitage is so good. And Jane and the doctor. And the yard is full of flowers. I’m very happy.”