“Mary Jane, you’re the very nicest girl I know!”
“Thank you. That’s a dear thing for you to say. But you’re partial, like mother. Besides, there isn’t any other girl here, just now.”
“But I mean it. There isn’t another girl in the world would come here and be shut up in the house, day after day, just to amuse me, ’cause my leg’s broken, except you.”
“Yes, there is,” said Mary Jane, confidently.
“Who?”
“You!”
“Oh! you funny child!”
“Wouldn’t you? If you and I were each other—I mean changed places and I was the sick one, wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I never did like indoors and would never stay in if I could help it. Do you s’pose it will be very long now?”
“No, I guess not. Not if you’re good and lie still. Wait. I’ll bring all the playthings around to that other side the bed and that will rest you. You’ve been looking out this way a good while now.”