"And we'll bring it to Violet?" asked Benny, waiting breathlessly for an answer.
"We'll bring it to Violet," agreed Mr. Cordyce, resuming his shortcake.
After lunch he went to sleep in the easy-chair in the doctor's big office. That is, he threw his head back and shut his eyes, and breathed very heavily. Jess went through the room once with ice water, humming, for Violet was better. But the moment she saw the stranger asleep, she stopped her singing abruptly and tiptoed the rest of the way. Then as suddenly she turned around and came back, and very carefully shoved a cushion under the man's feet. It was so gently done that even if he had been really asleep, he would never have wakened. As it was, he could not resist opening one eye the slightest crack to see the bright chestnut hair as it passed out of sight.
"No," he thought to himself, "if she really hated me, she would never have done that."
But the children were very far from hating him. They liked him immensely. And when at last, one day, he was allowed to see Violet, and came softly into her room with a nosegay of fragrant English double violets, for her, they loved him. He won all their hearts when he patted her dark head and told her very simply that he was sorry she had been sick.
It would be hard to say that J. H. Cordyce ever had a favorite grandchild, but certainly his manner with Violet was very gentle. It was clear to every one, even to the anxious nurse, that the stranger was not tiring the sick child. He told her in a pleasant everyday voice about his garden and his greenhouses where the violets came from—about the old Swede gardener who always said he must "vater the wi-lets."
"I'd love to see him," said Violet earnestly.
"How long you going to stay here?" Benny piped up.
It was not altogether a polite question, but it was clear to them all that Benny wanted him to stay, so they all laughed.
"As long as they'll let me, my boy," answered the stranger quietly. Then he left the sick room, for he knew he should not stay long.