'Yes, uncle, you have had a fine sleep, so many hours. See, it is almost dark, and Walter will be down presently,' she said brightly. 'Are you ready for tea now?'
She came to his bed-side, and looked down upon him as tenderly as if he had been the dearest being to her on earth.
'You are a good girl, a good girl,' he said quickly,—'the best girl in the whole world.'
Her face flushed with pleasure at this rare praise.
'I am very glad, uncle, if you think so,' she said gently. 'And now, what can the best girl in the world do to keep up her reputation? Is the pain gone?'
'Almost; it is not so bad, anyhow. Do you think I'm dying, Gladys?'
She gave a quick start, and her cheek blanched slightly at this sudden question.
'Oh no. Why do you ask such a thing, uncle? You have only got a very bad cold—a chill caught in that cold place up there. I wonder you have escaped so long.'
'Ay, it is rather cold. I've been often chilled to the bone, and I've seen Walter's fingers blue with cold,' he said. 'You'll run up soon and tell him to haul all the soap-boxes out of the fireplace, and build up a big fire to be ready for the morning, lighted the first thing.'
'Very well, uncle; but I don't think I'll let you up-stairs to-morrow.'