“Youse jist work too hard wid dem babies an’ all.”
“I’m only going to have Nelly next week, an’ the Leary baby is to go in the country with his mother to live. ’Twasn’t nothin’ but a queer flutt’rin’ like, an’ it comes sometimes in the night when I can’t be tired. It’s all over now;” and she looked bright and happy, if still pale.
Patsey seemed hardly satisfied.
“I think it’s the hot weather. It’s been so hot, you know. An’ to-day’s splendid! I’ll get better when cool weather comes, I’m most sure. You an’ the boys take a good long walk, an’ I’ll stay here with the lunch, an’ get all rested up. An’ I’ll make b’leve it’s heaven; it’s so beautiful.”
“See here, Dil, don’t yer go an’ be thinkin’ ’bout—’bout heaven an’ sich—”
Patsey swallowed over a big lump in his throat, and winked vigorously.
“Bess an’ I used to talk about it,” she said in a soft, disarming fashion. “We thought ’twas some-wers over the river there,” nodding her head. “But I’ll jes’ sit still in some shady place, an’ I won’t go to-day,” with a soft, comforting laugh.
The boys protested at first. But Dil had a way of persuading them that was quite irresistible. They were boys to the full, and to sit still would have half killed them. They found a lovely nook, where she could see the lake and the boats, and the people passing to and fro in their Sunday attire. There were merry voices of little ones that touched her like music.
She sat very still, with the lunch-basket at her feet. Occasionally some one cast a glance at the pale little girl in her white gown, with the wild roses drooping over the brim of her hat. A friendly policeman had seen the pantomime and the departure of the boys, and meant to keep guard that no one molested her.
Dil could understand being ill from some specific disease; but she did not feel ill, only tired. It was a different kind of fatigue from that back in Barker’s Court, for then she could fall asleep in a moment. Now the nights were curiously wakeful. And the babies were heavy, even if there were only two of them.