“All right then—and promise to call me if anything happens.”
“I promise!” breathed Queenie, thankful to be considered so responsible.
CHAPTER XXIV.
QUEENIE’S DAY OFF.
The bright morning sunlight streamed into Marjorie’s room, as she sat up in bed, a week later, finishing her dainty breakfast, and watching expectantly for Queenie. The girl’s first visit in the morning was the most pleasant event of her quiet days during her convalescence; Queenie always seemed radiant as she entered, bearing interesting news of the outside world.
This morning she ran up the stairs two steps at a time, her hands filled with letters and flowers. Darting over to the bed, she piled them all on top of Marjorie, while she stooped over to kiss her hair.
“Just look how much everybody loves you, Cap!” she exclaimed. “I think there must be a dozen letters—and two new boxes of flowers!”
Marjorie’s eyes shone with happiness; it was worth while to be ill, to find out how much every one cared.
“You open the flowers, Queenie,” she said, “and I’ll begin on the letters. Let’s go slowly—I like to make them last as long as I can.”
“Maybe you’ll have some real visitors today,” observed the younger girl. “The doctor said you might have two, you know.”