“But Nelly’s so sweet, and ’companies me so much,” Dil said longingly.
“But you orter be chirkin’ up a bit, ’stead er gittin’ so thin, an’ faintin’. ’Twas nawful, Dil. You looked jes’ ’s if youse wos dead.”
“It didn’t hurt any, Patsey;” and she smiled over to him. "’Twas queer like ’s if all the bells in the world was ringin’ soft an’ sweet, an’ then you went sailin’ off. ’Twas worse when I went to ketch my breath afterward. But I’m all right now.”
She glanced up smilingly to Mrs. Wilson, who took the soft little hands in hers, for soft they were in spite of the hard work they had done. Patsey had whisked the table up to the side of the room and brushed up the crumbs. Then he sat down and watched Dil.
Mrs. Wilson said she must go in home, but she would run over in the morning. Patsey expressed his thanks in a frank, boyish manner, and Dil’s eyes said at least half of hers.
Then Mrs. Brian and her husband returned, and she stopped to hear what kind of a picnic they had had. Between the three they told all the story and the fright.
“Yes; she must give up all but Nelly, for her mother wouldn’t know how to stand it on such a short notice. The child achilly cries for you on Sundays, her mother told me. But we can’t have you killed for any babies in the land,” said Mrs. Brian emphatically.
“That’s the talk!” exclaimed Patsey.
“Why, I feel jes’ as well as ever, an’ all rested like,” and Dil sat up, smiling. “We walked so much to-day, but to-morrow I’ll be all right.”
She seemed quite right the next morning. When Mrs. Brian’s “man” had gone, she came in and helped Dil with the breakfast things. Mrs. Cairns would leave her baby for the half-day, and Nelly came. Mrs. Wilson looked in upon her, with a bit of sewing in her hand. Dil did not try to do anything besides entertain the little ones. How sweet and naturally she did it!