As Dr. Richards slowly grew better, and again became alive to sensations other than purely and painfully subjective,—he found some amusement in watching these amateur miracle-plays. One afternoon they were in the full tide of a new story, which he could hardly at first make out, as he lay on his couch, observing them through the open door.
Freddy sat alone in the room impersonating ten lepers, so there was little wonder his father failed to take in the situation. Then the door opened, and Louis entered, followed by all the disciples in the person of Pinkie. A blue broché shawl, belonging to nurse, with a bright gold and red border, was draped about him in a very tolerable imitation of the pictures; his head was bare, and his childish face upturned with so sweet and solemn a look that one might almost have fancied him indeed on his way to Jerusalem and Calvary. Then came the cry from Freddy, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!”
Louis stopped, and turned slowly. His whole countenance changed and softened into tenderness and pity; he stretched out one hand with a gesture full of authority.
“Go, show yourselves to the priests,” he said.
“Now dey’s gone,” cried Pinkie, who seemed inclined to add the part of Greek chorus to her other characters, “now, dey’s all well adain, and here turns one of ‘em, yunnin, yunnin fasht. Now, Feddy, you tan dowify Dod.”
But just as Freddy began obediently to clap his hands and shout, “Glory, glory,” Louis, who had stood all the while motionless, regarding him fixedly, suddenly laid that small outstretched hand on the arm of his little friend.
“Stop, Freddy,” he said, still with the same tone of strange authority, “stop, I’m going to cure you.”
Freddy looked up surprised and half frightened. Alice rose from her seat by the window, and the nurse quietly began to put by her sewing as though to be ready for any emergency, for there was something in the child’s manner that showed him to be in awful earnest.
“Freddy, arise and walk!”
The childish tones rang through the room like the notes of a silver flute; there was a pause; Dr. Richards in the next room raised himself on his elbow to see the better, Alice made one step forward, and the nurse stood quietly watching, all unconscious of the tears that followed each other silently down her cheeks. Even Pinkie was hushed with expectation, and I think no one would have been at that moment surprised if the command had been obeyed. But, alas! the two little hands upon the arms of Freddy’s chair, the helpless feet concealed by the gay, embroidered skirt, were powerless to raise or to sustain even so slight a weight as that small figure. There was an effort, a struggle perceptible but vain; then Freddy’s voice cried out, “O Louis, I can’t, I can’t! my legs aren’t strong enough,” and broke into bitter, childish weeping.