The days passed—more days than Baron liked to count. And still Bonnie May did not go over to the Thornburgs’, but haunted Baron’s room early and late, between lesson hours, and tried in a thousand ways to serve him.
He made curious discoveries touching her.
Often she stood by the window looking out, and he marvelled to see her body become possessed by some strange spirit within her. Her very flesh seemed to be thinking, to be trying to become articulate. And when she looked at him, after such a period as this, she suddenly, shrank within herself and gazed at him with a wistfulness so intense that he felt an eager wish to help her—yet also a strange helplessness.
Once he cried: “You strange little creature, what is it?”
But she only shook her head slowly and whispered, “Nothing”—though he saw that her eyes filled with tears.
Finally Doctor Percivald called again—three weeks had passed since the patient had been put to bed—and announced that if Baron would confine his activities to the house for a few days longer, he might safely get up.
CHAPTER XXV
BONNIE MAY SEES TWO FACES AT A WINDOW
It was at luncheon, and Baron was down-stairs for the first time since his accident.
“It’s just like having Johnny come back from the war,” observed Bonnie May, as the family took their places at table. Baron, Sr., was not there. He usually spent his midday hour at his club.
“From the war?—Johnny?” replied Baron. He stood by his chair an instant, putting most of his weight on one foot.