THE "SENSITIVE"
Kathrien, looking down into the firelit room, saw the white-clad boy starting up in triumph with his work.
"Why, Willem!" she cried, dumfounded at sight of the invalid out of bed at such an hour. "What are you doing down there? You ought to——"
"Oh, Miss Kathrien!" exclaimed the child, pointing toward the picture. "Come down, quick!"
"You mustn't get out of bed like this when you're ill," gently reproved Kathrien. "I had a feeling that you weren't in your room. That is why I came out to look. Come——"
"But, look!" insisted Willem, pointing again at the picture puzzle he had so painstakingly pieced together. "Look, Miss Kathrien!"
"Come, dear!" admonished Kathrien. "You must not play down there. Wait a minute, and I'll make your bed again. It will be more comfortable for you if it's made over. Then you must come right upstairs."
She went to the sick room and set to work with deft speed rearranging the tumbled sheets and smoothing the rumpled pillows. Willem looked down at his disregarded picture and his lip trembled. He gazed about the room in the hope of seeing Peter Grimm. He strained his keen ears for sound of the Dead Man's gentle, comforting voice.
But Peter Grimm was looking fixedly toward the dining-room door. And in a moment it opened and Mrs. Batholommey bustled in.
"I thought I heard some one call," observed the rector's wife for the benefit of any one who might be in the half-lighted room.