“Come up-stairs and rest a while before supper,” said Constance, softly. “Will you? Do, please. We’ll be your handmaidens.”
“Yes do, Mumsey, dear. I’ll tuck you all up ‘snug as a bug in a rug,’” urged Jean.
“And I’ll go make you a cup of tea just as you love it,” added Eleanor hurrying from the room. As Mrs. Carruth rose from the settee Constance slipped her strong arm about her to lead her up to her own room, Jean running on ahead to arrange the couch pillows comfortably. Presently Mrs. Carruth was settled in her nest with Jean upon a low hassock, at her feet, patting them to make her “go byelow,” she said. In a few moments Eleanor came back with a dainty little tray and tea service, which she set upon the taborette Constance had placed for it, and proceeded to feed her mother as she would have fed an invalid.
“Do you want to quite spoil me?” asked Mrs. Carruth, from her nest of pillows.
“Not a bit of it! We only want to make you realize how precious you are, don’t you understand?” said Eleanor, kissing her mother’s forehead. “There! That is the last bite of cracker and the last drop of tea. Now take ‘forty winks’ and be as fresh as a daisy for supper. Come on, Jean, let Mumsey go to sleep.”
“Oh, please let me stay here cuddling her feet. I’ll be just as quiet as a mouse,” begged Jean.
“Please all stay; and Connie, darling, whistle me to the land o’ nod,” said Mrs. Carruth, slipping one hand into Constance’s and holding the other to Eleanor, who dropped down upon the floor and rested her cheek against it as she nestled close to the couch.
Only the flickering flames of the logs blazing upon the andirons, lighted the room as the birdlike notes began to issue from the girl’s lips. She whistled an air from the Burgomeister, its pretty melody rippling through the room like a thrush’s notes.
Presently Mrs. Carruth’s eyelids drooped and, utterly wearied by the day’s exciting events, she slipped into dreamland upon the sweet melody.