He turned his face over on the pillow, and was silent until mamma came in and spoke in her cheerful fashion.
“You have all been very kind, much kinder than I deserve. How long will it take me to get well?”
“That depends a good deal upon yourself,” returned mamma. “When you feel like it, you may begin to sit up. And you must keep as cheerful as possible. Are you not hungry?”
He thought he was presently; but he made a wry face over the beef tea.
“Can’t I have something besides this?” he asked. “I am so tired of it!”
“Then you may take it hereafter as medicine, and we will find a new article of diet. I am glad that you are sufficiently improved to desire a change. I will see what I can find for you.”
She was as good as her word; and Mrs. Whitcomb brought him up the cunningest tea in the old-fashioned china, and a fresh nosegay of spice pinks lying beside his plate.
“O, how delightful they are! I am very much obliged,” he said, gratefully.
That evening Kate Fairlie and her brother Dick came over to call upon us.
“I heard your invalid was out of danger, or I should not have ventured,” she began, after the first greetings were over, “for it is not a call of condolence merely. Fan, aren’t you glad school is over? But what can you find to occupy yourself with? I am actually bored to death already. We are to have some company from the city next week, and we want to get up a picnic to go to Longmeadow. Won’t you two girls join, and the young Mr. Duncan who isn’t sick? Dick thinks him such a funny fellow. Where is he? Can’t I have an introduction? The boys all seem to know him very well. And is it true that they are so rich?”