"I wish they wouldn't do so," I said, in a pained tone. "I'd much rather slip quietly into my old place as if nothing had happened."
"I imagined you would feel so, Mr. Morton," she said gently; "but so much has happened that you must let them express their abounding gratitude in their own way. It will do them good, and they will be the happier for it."
"Indeed, Miss Warren, that very word gratitude oppresses me. There is no occasion for their feeling so. Why, Hiram, their man, could not have done less. I merely happened to be here. It's all the other way now. If ever a man was overwhelmed with kindness, I have been. How can I ever repay Mrs. Yocomb?"
"I am equally helpless in that respect; but I'm glad to think that between some of our friends the question of repaying may be forgotten. I never expect to repay Mrs. Yocomb."
"Has she done so much for you, also?"
"Yes, more than I can tell you."
"Well," I said, trying to laugh, "if I ever write another paragraph it will be due to her good nursing."
"That is my chief cause for gratitude," she said hurriedly, the color deepening again in her cheeks. "If you hadn't—if—I know of your brave effort to get well, too—she told me."
"Yes, Miss Warren," I said quietly, "I am now doing my best."
"And you are doing nobly—so nobly that I am tempted to give you a strong proof of friendship; to tell you what I have not told any one except Mrs. Yocomb. I feel as if I had rather you heard it from me than casually from others. It will show how—how I trust you."