[CHAPTER XX.]
NO LONGER A HUMAN WAIF.
GUS was too weak, and suffering too much pain in his broken limb, to think long of the words that had passed between him and Mr. Mouncey. When the pain and weariness became more than he could bear, the medical man would give him a strong sedative, under the influence of which he would sleep for hours. But for the relief thus gained, he could hardly have borne the strain of constant pain.
One afternoon, after sleeping for several hours, he woke to find a lady seated by his side. She was not young; her form was full and matronly, and her countenance was a pleasant one to look upon. She was knitting, and her expression was rather sad; but when she looked up and met Gus' gaze she smiled brightly on him. Her sweet smile and the look of her blue eyes seemed familiar to Gus; yet he felt sure he had not seen her before.
"So you are awake at last," she said, bending over him, and laying her hand tenderly on his curly hair; "and how do you feel now, Gus?"
There was a strange thrill in her voice, as of feeling resolutely restrained.
"Better," he replied, smiling back at her; "much better."
"That is right," she said brightly. "And now for the beef-tea. I must not forget nurse's instructions. Please do not begin to talk till you have had some beef-tea."
She turned quickly to the fireplace, where, keeping warm on the hob, was the beef-tea.
Gus was not particularly fond of this strengthening beverage; but somehow it looked more inviting than usual as the lady poured it out, and brought it to him on a little tray, with some tiny chips of toast daintily arranged on a plate.