"She doesn't care to be known," said Meta conclusively.
The next day came. Jean ran up to the nursery the last thing before she went out. It had been one of Sunnie's bad days. She did not often get them, but now and then, headache and backache laid her low, and Jean had been told that her painting must be put aside for that day. She found the day nursery empty. Nurse came out from the bedroom beyond.
"Come in and speak a word to the poor bairn," she said with her homely smile. "Ye'll no stay long, for she's that low to-day, an' the doctor has not been. His voice be more to her than his physic."
Jean went into the darkened room with softened footstep, but Sunnie looked up and smiled at her. Her small face looked pinched and white, and there were dark circles of pain and weariness round her eyes. Yet her words were characteristic of her.
"I'll be better to-morrow," she said. "I'm longing for it to come."
"My darling, I wish I could bear your pain for you."
Jean's voice was full of pity as she stooped and kissed the child.
Sunnie put her little hand up and stroked her cheek. "I'm saying Cousin Leslie's rhyme over—"
"'With her hands in God's, and her heart at rest,
Perfectly sure that all's for the best.'"
"But I want to hear him play it on the piano. I'm longing for him to come. It would make my head better."