Mrs. Ogilvie was all in white and looked very young and girlish and pretty. She tripped up to the child, bent over her and kissed her.
“My little white rose,” she said, “you must get some color back into your cheeks.”
“Oh, color don’t matter,” replied Sibyl. “I’m just as happy without it.”
“But you are quite out of pain, my little darling?”
“Yes, Mummy.”
“And you like lying here in your pretty window?”
“Yes, mother darling.”
“You are not weary of lying so still?”
Sibyl laughed.
“It is funny,” she said, “I never thought I could lie so very still. I used to get a fidgety sort of pain all down me if I stayed still more than a minute at a time, but now I don’t want to walk. My legs are too heavy. I feel heavy all down my legs and up to the middle of my back, but that is all. See, Mummy, how nicely I can move my hands. Nursie is going to give me some dolls to dress.”