There I stood waiting to put another cold cloth on the boy's head. Neither one of them knew I was on earth. I hardly knew it myself. For the first time in my life I was seeing the real thing and the wonder of it almost petrified me.
What else might have happened is an untold tale. Jane saved the situation. I had not noticed her absence. She now entered, carrying a tray well filled with crackers and a beverage which she placed before Page. "Honey, I don't believe in any of those spirit-rising liquors even when you faint, but I made this jape gruice right off our own vine and fig tree and I know it's pure and innocent. Yes, Zura, grape juice is what I said. Page can drink every gallon I have if he wants it, and I'll toast cheese and crackers for him all night."
The twist in Jane Gray's tongue might lead to laughter, but her heart never missed the road to thoughtful kindness.
Very soon Page said he felt much better and would get home and to bed. When he took his coat and hat from the hall he looked so weak, so near to illness, I begged him to stay and let us care for him. He gently refused, saying he would be all right in the morning. I followed him to the gate. He turned to say good-night.
I put my hands on his shoulders and with all the affection at my command I invited his confidence. "What is it, son? I'm an old woman, but maybe I can help you. Let me try."
He lifted his hands to mine and his grasp was painful. The dim light from the old bronze lantern reflected the tears in his eyes as he answered: "Help me? You have in a thousand ways. I'll soon be all right. I'm just a little over-worked. Haven't slept much lately. Need rest."
Then leaning near with sudden tenderness: "Heaven bless you, dear woman. You have been as good to me as my own mother. Some day—perhaps. Good-night. Don't worry, Miss Jenkins."
Why didn't he throw me over into a bramble patch and tell me not to get scratched? I just leaned my old head up against the gate and cried.
I returned to the house by a rear door, for Jane was in the living-room.