Meg looked at Jem as if seeking strength from his pitying eyes; then she bent and laid her cheek against Dickie's head as she said tenderly—
"It's because your eyes have been so bad, dear."
"Will they get better?" he asked.
"I am not sure, dear."
"I want to see my booful chair, and mo'ver-Meg!"
Jem took the child out of the chair and wrapped his arms round him, pacing up and down the room with him on his breast.
"Kind fa'ver-Jem," said Dickie, settling himself in those strong arms.
They went up and down for some minutes, while Meg and Cherry wept, and wiped away their tears in turn.
By-and-by they heard Dickie ask in a whisper—
"Shall I ever get better, and be able to see my mo'ver-Meg?" And Jem answered, in that low husky voice which betokened strong emotion—