A Little Invalid
THAT was a very confused and dreadful night to Dreamikins, and the next day was not much better. She was conscious of such pain as she never in her small life had experienced before. The doctor appeared almost directly, and the medicine he gave her seemed to make her so sleepy that she could hardly take in anything. When she was not asleep she was in great pain, and was not allowed to move her leg or get out of bed. Fibo came to see her in his wheeled chair, and talked to her in his happy comforting way. In a few days she began to feel better, and then she remembered things. Then one evening Annette came in great distress to Fibo.
"Oh, Monsieur, will you come to Miss Emmeline! She cry and cry in a peetiful way. I can no comfort bring her, and I do not understand the wherefore of her cry. It is not that the little leg hurts, so she says!"
So Fibo came and found the golden curly-haired head buried in the pillow, and the small shoulders shaking with sobs.
"Why, Dreamikins," he said, "are you washing your pillow with salt water? That will never do. What's the rub?"
Dreamikins raised her flushed tear-stained face and looked at her uncle.
"I'm miser-rub-bub-bubble!" she sobbed.
"So I see. What has happened?"
"I haven't said my prayers for years, and now when I want to say them God won't listen to me. He's gone away."
"That, I know, isn't true."