“I think she has only fainted. My sister faints frequently.” She began to chafe Dil’s hands, and asked them to wet the end of the towel, with which she bathed the small white face, and the brown eyes opened with a smile, a little startled at the stranger bending over her. She closed them again; and Mrs. Wilson nodded to the intensely eager faces crowding about, saying assuringly,—
“She will be all right presently.”
Then she glanced around the room. It was clean, and it had some pretty “gift pictures” tacked up on the whitewashed wall. There was a bowl of flowers on the window-sill. The table had a red and white cloth, there were some Chinese napkins, and cheap but pretty dishes. The long towel hanging by the sink was fairly sweet in its cleanliness, and this pale little girl was the housekeeper!
“Have you ever fainted before? What had you been doing?” she asked in a quiet manner.
“We’d been up to Cent’l Park. It was so beautiful! But I guess I got tired out,” and Dil smiled faintly. “You see, I was in the hospital in the spring, an’ I ain’t so strong’s I used to be. But I feel all well now.”
“Youse jes’ lay still there, ’n’ Owny, ’n’ me’ll wash up the dishes.”
Patsey colored scarlet as he said this, but he stood his ground manfully.
“They’re so good to me!” and Dil looked up into her visitor’s eyes with such heartsome gratitude that the lady was deeply touched. “Patsey,” she added, “you’ve got on your best clo’es, ’n’ I wish you’d tie on that big apern. Mrs. Wilson won’t make fun, I know.”
“No, my child; I shall honor him for his carefulness,” returned Mrs. Wilson.
Patsey’s face grew redder, if such a thing was possible, but he tied on the apron.