The cripple was too astonished to reply. She had pushed herself from her hard position upon the cot’s foot to a chair which the nurse had placed for her, and was leaning back in it with supreme content. In all her little life she had never sat upon anything so luxurious and restful. How could any child mind anything, who was as fortunate as the daughter of such a home? Astonishment, also, at finding that her new friend was not wholly the “angel” she had hitherto supposed her to be, kept her silent. But she was rather glad to find this out. It made the other girl seem nearer to her own level of imperfection, and she speedily reflected that sick people were often cross, yet didn’t mean to be so.
Bonny-Gay herself swiftly repented her hard speech and looking around the room, inquired:
“Did I sleep very long?”
“Yes, dear, a long time. We are all so glad of that,” answered the nurse, holding a spoon to the patient’s lips, just as she had done to Mary Jane’s, who laughed outright exclaiming:
“That was the funniest thing! When I was holding your hand, Bonny-Gay, she fed me just that way, too! Me! Mary Jane Bump! Chicken, and biscuit and milk! ’Twas prime, I tell you!”
“Fed you? Why?”
“’Cause I was holding your hand and couldn’t feed myself. I s’pose she thought, maybe, I was hungry. I was, too.”
“Did you hold it all the time I was asleep, Mary Jane?”
“Yes. Course. You wasn’t to be waked up till you did it yourself.”
A moment’s silence; then said Bonny-Gay: