“Don’t tell me that. I know the meaning of those pale cheeks. I ought to have noticed them before. In a few days, when you are strong enough, we will all take an excursion together, that is, papa and you and I, and perhaps Herbert—I mean Mr. Coleman—will go too. I want to see a little color in those cheeks.”
“How kind you are, Helen!” said Martha, gratefully.
“Wouldn’t you be as kind to me, if I were sick instead of you? tell me that, Martha?”
“Yes, I hope I should.”
“Then you see there is no reason for thanking me. I dare say I shall take a fancy to fall sick some day when you are quite well, and call you in to take care of me. I warn you beforehand that I shall make a dreadfully cross patient.”
Martha smiled. There was something contagious in Helen’s light heart and exuberance of cheerfulness. The world seemed a great deal brighter to her than it had done a few hours before.
“Now, Martha, as it must be dreadfully tiresome lying there staring at that white-washed wall, I will tell you what I am going to do. I was passing a circulating library just now, when I thought I would run in and get something to read to you. Shall you like it?”
“Very much. It is a long time since I have had a chance to read anything.”
“It will interest me, too. If you feel like it, I will sit down, and commence it now.”
“I wish you would.”