"And so I do, Willie," said Meg laughing hysterically. "I'm just delighted. It's because I'm so happy that I'm crying. People do sometimes you know."
"I don't think you really like it," said the child, slipping off her knee and surveying her dejectedly.
"I like it more than anything you can think of," said Meg, wiping away her tears. "I'm a bit tired I suppose, that's all, dear. But oh, Willie, I'm glad it's your birthday to-morrow."
A great sob escaped her. To think of being again in the country! Of lying out on the heath under the sun! Of drinking in the sweet pure air! It seemed almost too good to be true. But she tried for the sake of her little companion to restrain her inclination to sob out loud again, and instead looked up laughing. Willie was reassured. He knelt, resting his elbows on her knee and looking up into her face.
"Mother, she say she'll take off my shoes and stockings and let me run about on the grass without 'em. Won't that be fine. You'll do it too won't you?"
"I shouldn't wonder if I did. I shouldn't wonder at anything," said Meg laughing.
"And we're going to take our food along of us and sit out on the grass and eat it. Won't that be fun? I expect you've never done such a thing before, have you?"
"It'll be lovely," said Meg anxious not to clamp the child's pleasure by telling him she had eaten her dinner out of doors scores of times.
"And we shall go in the train first. I've once been in a train before, when I went to see my Granny. And then I've another secret, but that ain't till to-morrow. Mother says I'm not to tell you that."
When Mrs. Webb came home she found Meg on the floor playing with Willie and his broken toys, looking perfectly happy and contented. It quite surprised her. And she also noticed that Meg's eyes were bright and full of courage and hope. She looked a different creature to what she had been before her illness.