"My hand and arm were scalded through an accident," said Maureen. "They hurt a little, but nothing to signify. I am quite ready to go to her now."
"Bless you, sweet child, but that dear little hand ought to be in a sling."
"No, no," said Maureen, "she wouldn't like that. It only smarts a trifle."
A minute or two later Maureen was seated by the sick girl's bed. There was a curious, but very perceptible, change in Daisy. She had looked ill in the morning, but now there was a wild excitement about her, and those cheeks, generally so pale, were rosy red with the fire of fever.
"Ah," she said with a sigh of intense relief. "White Angel, you have come back."
"Yes, little Daisy."
"Hold my hand. Soothe me. Let me rest against you."
Maureen immediately put her uninjured hand in Daisy's.
"I want both your darling hands; one isn't enough."
"The other—hurts a little, Daisy, and I—I'm afraid I cannot give it to you."