“Thank you, Floy!”
Paul closed his eyes with those words, and fell asleep. When he awoke, the sun was high, and the broad day was clear and warm. He lay a little, looking at the windows, which were open, and the curtains rustling in the air, and waving to and fro: then he said, “Floy, is it tomorrow? Is she come?”
Someone seemed to go in quest of her. Perhaps it was Susan. Paul thought he heard her telling him when he had closed his eyes again, that she would soon be back; but he did not open them to see. She kept her word—perhaps she had never been away—but the next thing that happened was a noise of footsteps on the stairs, and then Paul woke—woke mind and body—and sat upright in his bed. He saw them now about him. There was no grey mist before them, as there had been sometimes in the night. He knew them every one, and called them by their names.
“And who is this? Is this my old nurse?” said the child, regarding with a radiant smile, a figure coming in.
Yes, yes. No other stranger would have shed those tears at sight of him, and called him her dear boy, her pretty boy, her own poor blighted child. No other woman would have stooped down by his bed, and taken up his wasted hand, and put it to her lips and breast, as one who had some right to fondle it. No other woman would have so forgotten everybody there but him and Floy, and been so full of tenderness and pity.
“Floy! this is a kind good face!” said Paul. “I am glad to see it again. Don’t go away, old nurse! Stay here.”
His senses were all quickened, and he heard a name he knew.
“Who was that, who said ‘Walter’?” he asked, looking round. “Someone said Walter. Is he here? I should like to see him very much.”
Nobody replied directly; but his father soon said to Susan, “Call him back, then: let him come up!” Alter a short pause of expectation, during which he looked with smiling interest and wonder, on his nurse, and saw that she had not forgotten Floy, Walter was brought into the room. His open face and manner, and his cheerful eyes, had always made him a favourite with Paul; and when Paul saw him, he stretched Out his hand, and said “Good-bye!”
“Good-bye, my child!” said Mrs Pipchin, hurrying to his bed’s head. “Not good-bye?”