Marjorie tiptoed in, presently, to see if she were comfortably fixed, before they went back for their berries.
Cricket opened her eyes in answer to Marjorie’s inquiry. ’Manda had gone out of the room for a moment.
“Where’s Mamie Hecker?” whispered Cricket.
“Don’t worry about her, dear. She’s gone to spend a week with her Aunt Jane. You’re safe.”
“Oh!” Cricket closed her eyes in great relief, then opened them as she said, miserably, “I can’t walk a step now, and I don’t believe I could sit up in the car. I don’t see how I’m going to get home.”
“That’s all right,” said Marjorie, soothingly, “for ’Gustus John is going to drive us to Porter’s Inn, and if you’re well enough you will go then, but if you don’t feel able, ’Manda wants you to stay all night. They’ll send you to town in the morning, with ’Gustus John. You wouldn’t mind staying, would you?”
“Oh, no,” said Cricket, feeling much too badly to care about anything but lying still.
CHAPTER XXX.
LEFT BEHIND.
The children’s voices died away in the distance. Presently the door opened carefully, and ’Manda came in, with a big pillow and a tumbler.
“There, now, dearie,” she said, setting down her tumbler, and slipping the big, soft pillow under Cricket’s head. “That’s a sight better. That sofy pillow, ’taint very soft. I’d hev taken you right into my room an’ put you to bed, but it’s awful hot there now, being right off the kitchen so, ’n’ upstairs is hot, too. You’re a little mite sick to your stomick, too, ain’t you? I thought so. Now drink this lemonade, an’ it will kinder stop that gnawin’ feeling quicker nor a wink.”