"Is there much danger?" said Pap, anxiously.
"The child is as ill as she can be."
"I meant fer--me."
"Great Scot! If you feel like that you'd better not go in." His tone was dully contemptuous.
"Wal--I do feel like that, on'y more so; an' I'm goin' in all the same. Reckon I'm braver'n you, 'cause you ain't skeered."
We entered the room. George Leadham was sitting by the bed. When he saw us he bent over the flushed face on the pillow, and said, slowly and distinctly: "Here's Mr. Spooner, my pretty; he's come. Do you hear?"
She heard perfectly. In a thick, choked voice she said: "Is that you, Pap?"
"It's me," he replied; "it's me, sure enough."
"Why, so'tis. Popsy, where's my money?"
"Here, Sissy, right here."