“Dear mamma, I want to tell you all about it,” said Amelia, kissing the kind hand that stroked her brow.
But it appeared that the doctor had forbidden conversation; and though Amelia knew it would do her no harm, she yielded to her mother’s wish and lay still and silent.
“Now, my love, it is time to take your medicine.”
But Amelia pleaded—“Oh, mamma, indeed I don’t want any medicine. I am quite well, and would like to get up.”
“Ah, my dear child!” cried her mother, “what I have suffered in inducing you to take your medicine, and yet see what good it has done you.”
“I hope you will never suffer any more from my wilfulness,” said Amelia; and she swallowed two tablespoonfuls of a mixture labelled, “To be well shaken before taken,” without even a wry face.
Presently the doctor came.
“You’re not so very angry at the sight of me to-day my little lady, eh?” he said.
“I have not seen you for a long time,” said Amelia; “but I know you have been here, attending a stock who looked like me. If your eyes had been touched with fairy ointment, however, you would have been aware that it was a fairy imp, and a very ugly one, covered with hair. I have been living in terror lest it should go back underground in the shape of a black cat. However, thanks to the four-leaved clover, and the old woman of the heath, I am at home again.”
On hearing this rhodomontade, Amelia’s mother burst into tears, for she thought the poor child was still raving with fever. But the doctor smiled pleasantly, and said—“Ay, ay, to be sure,” with a little nod, as one should say, “We know all about it;” and laid two fingers in a casual manner on Amelia’s wrist.