She closed the book and waited to see if he intended resuming their previous conversation, but apparently he did not. For a long while there was silence, then the little girl spoke, asking some trifling question, but she received no answer, and saw that he had fallen asleep. She bent nearer to him to make certain such was the case, and he moved uneasily, muttering to himself, but the only words Felicia could make out were, "He healed them all." The tears rose to the little girl's eyes as she listened. Oh, if only a miracle could be performed for Uncle Guy! The cross he had to bear was a very heavy one, and her tender heart reproached her because often she had thought he had borne it less patiently than he might have done. She determined to be more than ever gentle with him in the future; and as she gazed at his pain-worn countenance and saw the ravages which ill-health had made, she realised to the full the deep grief it would be to her now to be parted from Uncle Guy.
"I believe he would miss me, too, if grandfather sent me away," she thought, "for he really seems to like me to be with him, and he never intends to be unkind, I know—he is not like Doris, who says cruel things on purpose to hurt. Oh, I hope nothing will happen to make grandfather send me to boarding-school now!"
When Mrs. Price peeped into the room a short while later, she was gratified to find her young master sleeping peacefully, and Felicia watching him, with an exceedingly thoughtful expression on her face, and a redness about her eyes which told of recent tears. Why should the child have been weeping, she wondered, when her uncle was undoubtedly better? The good woman was perplexed.
[CHAPTER XVIII]
An Unexpected Holiday
WHEN Felicia arrived at the Vicarage on the following morning, her aunt met her in the hall, and inquired for the latest news of the invalid.
"He is much better to-day," Felicia answered, with a ring of gladness in her voice; "I saw him for a few minutes after breakfast, and he said he had passed a most restful night without any pain, and he asked me to tell you that if you can spare the time to sit an hour or so with him, he will be delighted to have a chat with you."
"Oh, then he must be feeling much better!" Mrs. Pring exclaimed joyfully. "What do you say to the prospect of a week's holiday?" she continued, with a smile. "As a rule, Miss Barton goes home during August and the first half of September, but this year, on account of her mother's illness, she had to have her holiday earlier—it could not have been much of a holiday for her, poor girl—so I have suggested that she should take a week now, before the fine weather breaks up, and it has been arranged for her to go home this afternoon. So you children will have no lessons to-day, or for a week to come. Miss Barton is preparing for her journey; but Doris and Molly are, I believe, in the schoolroom. Run upstairs, my dear."
Felicia found her cousins in high spirits. They were engaged in packing their lesson books away in a cupboard, to get them out of sight as well as out of mind, as Molly explained. Both expressed pleasure on hearing their uncle was so much better, and then fell to discussing how the week's holiday was to be spent.
"I consider it is very hard lines we are not going to the sea-side this year," Doris observed with a sigh of regret; "it was most unfortunate that Miss Barton's mother should have been ill in June and upset our plans. It would have been so much nicer to have had our six weeks' holiday later on as usual. Father said something at breakfast about mother taking us to Weston-super-Mare for a week, but she did not like the thought of leaving home now Uncle Guy is ill. The doctor says he has been worse than he has ever been before."