“You good, big-hearted Bob!” said Jack. “You’re the best fellow in the world, I believe.”
“What a quare feller you air to talk, Jack,” said Bob, choking up. “Air you goin’ to school to-day?”
“No. Mother’d rather have me not go any more.”
“I’m not going any more. I hate old Ball. Neither’s Susan Lanham going. She’s in there,” and Bob made a motion toward the house with his thumb, and passed out of the gate, while Jack knocked at the door. He was admitted by Susan.
“Oh, Jack! I’m so glad to see you,” she whispered. “Columbus has asked for you a good many times during the night. You’ve stood by him splendidly.”
Jack blushed, but asked how Lummy was now.
“Out of his head most of the time. Bob Holliday stayed with him all night. What a good fellow Bob Holliday is!”
“I almost hugged him, just now,” said Jack, and Susan couldn’t help smiling at this frank confession.
Jack passed into the next room as stealthily as possible, that he might not disturb his friend, and paused by the door. Mrs. Risdale sat by the bedside of Columbus, who was sleeping uneasily, his curious big head and long, thin hair making a strange picture against the pillow. His face looked more meagre and his eyes more sunken than ever before, but there was a feverish flush on his wan cheeks, and the slender hands moved uneasily on the outside of the blue coverlet, the puny arms were bare to the elbows.
Mrs. Risdale beckoned Jack to come forward, and he came and stood at the bed-foot. Then Columbus opened his large eyes and fixed them on Jack for a few seconds.