“They do be havin’ such a good time,” she said, with a thrill of satisfaction in her tone.
“I wish you were well enough to join them,” Virginia replied softly.
Dil laughed. “I’ve been such a big, big girl this long time,” she returned with a sense of amusement, but no longing in her tone. “I don’t seem to know ’bout playin’ as they do; for mammy had so many babies, an’ Bess was hurted, an’ there wasn’t never no room to play in Barker’s Court, ’count o’ washin’ an’ such. ’Pears like I’d feel strange runnin’ an’ careerin’ round like thim,” and she made a motion with her head. “I’d rather lay here an’ get well. Oh, do you think the doctor’ll let me go on Sat’day?”
“My dear, I have written to Mr. Travis. I think he will be up then.”
“Oh!” Such a joyful light illumined the face, that Virginia had much ado to keep the tears from her own eyes. “You’re so good,” she said softly. “Everybody’s so good.”
“And the children don’t disturb you?”
“Oh, no; I like it. I c’n jest shut my eyes ’n’ see ‘Ring around a rosy.’ Oh,” with a long, long sigh, “Bess would ’a’ liked it so! I’m so sorry she couldn’t come ’n’ see it all, the beautiful flowers ’n’ trees ’n’ the soft grass you c’n tumble on ’n’ turn summersets as they did yest’day. Don’t you s’pose, Miss Deerin’, there’ll be a whole heaven for the children by themselves? For he told me somethin’ ’bout ’many mansions’ the Lord Jesus went to fix for thim all. Ain’t it queer how things come to you?”
XV—JOHN TRAVIS
She lay there quietly all the morning, little Dilsey Quinn, trying in her hopeful fashion to hurry and get well. It was nicer than the hospital, and Miss Deering was so sweet, as she sat there crocheting some lovely rose-wheels out of pale-blue silk. Now and then some sentences flashed between them, and a soft little laugh from Dil. Miss Deering felt more like crying.
The doctor came about three.