The following days were very sad. Noel lay unconscious for two days and two nights; and then when he was able to eat, and take notice, his memory seemed to have left him. The house had to be kept very quiet, and for days his life seemed to hang upon a thread.
It was astonishing how many friends the little fellow had. The back door was besieged by the villagers during the first few days of his illness. Foster took the Christmas tree out of the drawing-room and planted it in its old bed, but as he did so he was heard murmuring to himself:
"We'll never see his like again. He were too near heaven for a little chap like him!"
Mr. Wargrave, Miss Constance, Ted and Inez, all tried in turns to comfort and amuse poor Chris and Diana.
As the days went on they began to hope, and when at last the doctor said that Noel was going to pull through, they cheered up and began to smile once more.
But they were not allowed to see him. Mrs. Inglefield looked worn to a shadow; it was heart-breaking to her to see her busy chattering little son lying in listless apathy on his bed, only moving his head to and fro, and hardly recognizing his own mother.
Chris had to return to school before Noel was convalescent. Just before he went his mother let him come in and see the little patient. Chris could hardly believe that the tiny pinched face with the big restless eyes belonged to rosy, sturdy Noel.
He stooped over and kissed him very gently, and called him by name; but Noel took no notice, only moved his head restlessly from side to side.
And Chris went out of the room fighting with his tears. The very next day Diana said to her mother:
"Will Noel never get better, Mums? God isn't answering our prayers. I pray ever so many times in the day about him."