"Mavis, what do you think?" she cried, in great excitement. "Nurse says she is sure I have a real talent for nursing! Fancy that! But for mother's illness, I should never have found it out, should I? Oh, I'm so glad to know that I really have a talent for something, after all!"
Meanwhile, Mrs. John was gaining strength daily. Although she had not expressed a wish to see Mavis, she thought of her a good deal, and she missed the sound of her voice about the house.
"Where is Mavis?" she asked Rose, at length. Then, on being informed that the little girl was downstairs in the parlour, she inquired, "How is it I never hear her singing now?"
"Oh, mother, she would not sing now you are ill," Rose replied.
"She would not disturb me—I think I should like to hear her. It must be a privation to her not to sing."
"I don't think she has felt much like singing lately. We've all been so troubled about you—Mavis too. Oh, I don't know how I could have borne it whilst you were so dreadfully ill, if it had not been for Mavis!"
"What do you mean, Rose?"
"She kept up my heart about you, mother. And she's been so good to us all—helping Jane with the housework, lending Bob her games and keeping him amused, and doing everything she could to cheer us up. Wouldn't you like to see her?"
"Yes," assented Mrs. John, "to-morrow, perhaps."
So the following day found Mavis by her aunt's bedside, looking with sympathetic eyes at the wan face on the pillow.