"Can I not see Mr. Yocomb, and—and—Miss Warren this evening?"
"No, not till to-morrow. Father's been waiting till I said he could come; but he's so hearty-like that I won't trust him till thee's stronger."
"Is—is Miss Warren so hearty-like also? It seems to me her laugh would put life into a mummy."
"Well, thee isn't a mummy, so she can't come till to-morrow."
She had been smoothing my pillow and bathing my face with cologne, thus creating a general sense of comfort and refreshment. Now she lifted my head on her strong, plump arm, and brushed my hair. Tears came into my eyes as I said brokenly:
"I can remember my mother doing this for me when I was ill once and a little fellow. I've taken care of myself ever since. You can have no idea how grateful your manner is to one who has no one to care for him specially."
"Thee'll always have some one to care for thee now; but thee mustn't say anything more;" and I saw strong sympathy in her moist eyes.
"Yes," I breathed softly, "I should have died in New York."
"And thee said an imp from the printing-house could take care of thee," she replied, with a low laugh.
"Did I say that? I must have been out of my head."