Mary seemed to grow stronger every step.
A look of infinite content settled upon the invalid's face as she lay back on her pillows after this experiment. "My back don't ache a bit now," she said; "and when I have rested a little while, you will help me to sit up in the chair, won't you?"
"Not to-day, dear; I would not attempt too much at once. To-morrow if you feel strong enough, and have slept well, you shall try to sit in the chair, but you see if you do too much, your mother may think I am leading you into mischief."
"Yes, that she would," laughed Mary, "and that is why I must keep it all a secret. I have heard her tell father I should not put my foot to the ground until the two years was up, and really I think I should die, if I had to lie here two years longer doing nothing."
"But why don't you do something? You read of course—"
There was a gentle shake of the head on the pillow. "Mother does not like me to read much," she said. "You see the doctors said I must be kept very quiet, and I suppose it was needful at first. But I am sure I am getting better, faster than the doctors thought I should, and I get so dreadfully tired lying here that I believe I am beginning to be really ill, and shall get really worse, if I can't move about and do something soon. There dear, now I have told you all my secret, and I hope you will help me."
"Yes, that I will," said Elsie. "But don't you think you could tell your father all about it, he might be able to help you better than I can."
But Mary shook her head. "You see I am the only child, and they love me too well," she said. "You ought to be very thankful that you have brothers. I wish I had," she added, with a sigh.
"But if they love you so much," began Elsie.
"They love me more than you or I can understand," answered the invalid, solemnly.