“I’m most well,” said Dil, with her unabated cheerfulness. “Only when I raise up somethin’ seems tied tight around me here,” putting her hand to her side. “’N’ you think I c’n be well on Sat’day, cause—some one might come—”
“Are you expecting a visitor?”
“Miss Deerin’ knows. An’ he’s one of the sure kind. Yes; he’ll surely come. An’ if I stay in bed all day to-day, don’t you s’pose I’ll be well to-morrow?”
“We’ll see. You and Miss Deering seem to be planning secrets. I shall have to look sharp after both of you. And who brings you flowers?”
“Miss Mary. An’ some custard, an’ oh, Miss Deerin’ fed me like as if I was a baby.”
“That’s all right. It’s high time you were waited on a little. But I’d like you to take a nap. Miss Deering, couldn’t you read her to sleep?”
“I will try.”
“She ought to sleep some,” studying the wide eyes.
“But I’m not a bit sleepy. I’m thinkin’ ’bout when he comes, an’ how he’ll help me find Bess.”
“It is astonishing,” the doctor said down-stairs. “She has some wonderful vitality. It seemed this morning as if she couldn’t last an hour, and now if she wasn’t all worn out she might recover. But it is the last flash of the expiring fire. Is there some friend to come?”