[CHAPTER IX.]
THE BIRD PICTURE BOOK.
FOR several days Billy was ill, so ill that he kept his bed, and the doctor who attended him insisted he should have a night nurse. Accordingly Mrs. Varcoe was engaged to fill that position.
"Such an expense!" Billy overheard Mrs. Brown grumbling to her daughter, who came to Rowley Cottage, greatly concerned, as soon as she heard of his illness. "The doctor says he's still suffering from shock to some extent, and his nerves are unstrung. I never bargained he would be as delicate as this."
"Oh, I expect he'll be all right after a bit," was the hasty response. "I can understand how the thunderstorm upset him. Of course, you can't work by day and nurse by night, mother; you've done wisely in getting Mrs. Varcoe."
At first Billy was rather in awe of Mrs. Varcoe. He felt as though a giantess had taken possession of him. But he soon discovered that the giantess, in spite of her big, work-roughened hands, had the gentlest touch possible, and that her shrewd green eyes often had a very tender mother-look in them.
She was a silent watcher at his bedside as a rule, but one night, when Billy was too feverish and restless to sleep, she proved that she could be a good talker. He questioned her about her sons, and she told him a great deal that interested him concerning them, and spoke of a letter she had received after the eldest had been killed.
"It was from his captain," she explained; "just a few words, saying my boy had been a good soldier and had done his duty. I ought to be a proud mother, he said. And I am!"
Billy was deeply moved.
"Oh, Mrs. Varcoe, how brave you are!" he exclaimed.