“Youse don’t git reel well any more, Dil,” he said, his voice full of solicitude. “Kin I do anythin’—”
“O Patsey!” The quick tears came to her eyes. “Why, I am well, an’ everything’s so nice now, an’ Mrs. Brian jes’ lovely. Mebbe I ain’t quite so strong sence I was sick. An’ sometimes I get lonesome with you away all day.”
“I wish youse knowed some gals—”
“Patsey,” a soft, tender light came to her brown eyes, “I think I miss the babies. They’re so cunnin’ an’ sweet, an’ put their arms round your neck an’ say such pritty little words. An’ if I could have some babies I wouldn’t wash any more. That puts me out o’ breath like, an’ hurts my side. ’Twas that tired me for last night.”
“Youse jist sha’n’t wash no more, then. But babies is such a bother!”
“I love thim so. An’ only two, maybe. Curis there ain’t a baby in this house, nor in the front, neither. Babies would seem like old times, when I had Bess.”
There was such a wistful look in her pale, tender face. Patsey thought she had grown a great deal prettier, but he wished she had red cheeks. And he was moved to go out at once and hunt up the babies.
Other girls might have made friends in the neighborhood; but Dil had never acquired friendly arts, and now she shrank from companionship. But she liked Mrs. Brian; and that very afternoon as they sat together Dil ventured to state her desires.
“You don’t look fit to bother with ’em. You ought to be out pleasurin’ a bit.”
“But I’m strong, though; an’ I used to be such a fat little chunk! I was stunted like; but I think I look better not to be so fat,” she said with quaint self-appreciation.