‘That is not kind of you when he lies there, and it hurts him so sadly to breathe. You should wish him to be well, Helen.’
‘If he would be kind to me.’
‘O, you don’t know what it feels like to be ill,’ said Johnnie. ‘I do want to see him strong and able to ride, and go out to his soldiers again. I hope he will be kind still, and not go away and make mamma unhappy—’
‘If he would ever lead me by the hand, like the little girl’s papa at the house with the parrot, I should like that sort of papa, if he was not a little thin short ugly man. Should not you, Johnnie?’
‘No! I never shall like anything so well as my own papa. I do love him with my whole, whole heart! I am so glad he will let us love him now! It seems to come over me in the morning, and make me so glad when I remember it.’
Violet had been on the point of stopping this conversation, but Arthur would not permit her, and listened with his eyes filling with tears.
‘What have you done to that boy?’ he murmured.
‘It is his own loving self,’ said Violet.
Arthur pressed her hand to his lips. ‘My poor children! If papa ever were to get well—’
And Violet regretted that he had heard, for his emotion threw him back for the rest of the evening.