Poor Fritzy Nunky almost shivered in his shoes; but, being of the same valiant stuff as his small nephew, he rallied to the occasion. “Yes, sweetheart, I knew. But I would not have had thee know it for a fortune, till it was done and safely done.” At which remarkable speech Mother Amy opened her eyes most widely, though Ruth dropped hers.
“Well,” said that young person at last, and after a rather uncomfortable silence; “since every inconceivable thing has happened which could happen, I suppose there is no objection to my going home.”
“Not the least in the world,” answered Uncle Fritz, generously.
“No; it is high time we went. Thee had best go and pack up, my daughter, while I have a word or two with Fritz, here. We will go home, or start for home to-night, by the evening boat.” Grandmother Kinsolving’s tone had that ring of authority she so rarely exercised, but which there was no mistaking.
Ruth gave her mother one glance, then stooped and kissed the fair old cheek before she hurried from the room. But again the stalwart Fritz had fallen to trembling; and that before the gentlest of little women, in the meek garb of a Friend, whose question might mean much or little, according to the hearer’s mood: “Well, Fritz?”
CHAPTER XXIII.
The trained nurse had gone out of the room, leaving Octave in charge of the patient.
“You are patient and the patient, both, dear Melville,” said the girl, affectionately laying her warm hand on the lad’s thin one. “You are a hero! I’ve been wanting to say it ever since—three days ago; but that ever-watchful nurse hasn’t given me a chance. I’m as proud of you as proud!”
Melville smiled. “I am not much of a hero, dear; but I ought to be patient. Indeed, there doesn’t seem to be any need for that virtue now. Only think, in a very few weeks the surgeon said I could begin to try my limbs. Think! when I’ve lain here so many years, without the shadow of a hope that I should ever be any better! A fellow ought to be willing to bear anything for such a gain.”
Octave’s eyes filled. It had, strangely enough, never seemed half so pitiful to her that Melville should be a cripple till this possibility of his cure arose to cheer them on. “Laddie, if it had been me, I should have been perfectly horrid. I—I think I should have had to be shut up in a cage.”