“I am very sorry,” said the young lady, coming back; “give me Claude. I will walk about with him; you are not able.”
“No, no,” said Mrs Seaton, though the little boy held out his arms to go to her. “Go; the carriage is waiting. You should have gone long ago.”
“Need we go?” she asked, looking at Christie. “Clement can be kept out of the way now.”
“Yes, yes; go,” answered she, hastily. “We have had vexation enough for one day. And I thought this dear child was so nicely settled for the day; and now he is getting quite feverish again.”
Miss Gertrude turned and went out without reply.
“My boy, my poor boy!” murmured the mother, as she rocked him in her arms, and her lips were pressed on his feverish brow. “Will he ever play among the hay again?”
She rocked him till his crying was hushed, and weary with struggling, he begged to be laid down. Christie arranged the pillows, and his mother placed him on the sofa. She would fain have lingered near him; but, weak from recent illness, she was obliged to lie down. In a little while he asked for water, and to his mother’s surprise, was willing to take it from Christie’s hands. He even suffered her to bathe his hands and feet, and when he grew restless again, let her take him on her lap. He was quite contented to stay there; and the last object the mother saw before she sank to sleep was her sick boy nestling peacefully in the arms of the little stranger maid. And it was the first object she saw when she waked, some three hours afterwards. Christie had not moved, except to let her hat and shawl fall on the floor, and little Claude was slumbering peacefully still. He awoke soon, however, refreshed and strengthened, and not at all indignant at finding himself in a stranger’s arms, as his mother feared he might be. He suffered her to wash and dress him, as he had suffered no one but his mother to do for the last three weary weeks. It was very well that he was inclined to be friendly, for Mrs Seaton found herself much too ill to do the accustomed duty herself; and it was with something very like gratitude stirring at her heart that she said to Christie, when all was done:
“You are fond of children, are you not? You are very gentle and careful, I see.”
The little boy quarrelled with his dinner, as usual; but upon the whole the meal was successful, his mother said; and as a reward for being good, he was promised a walk in the garden by and by.
In the meantime Christie went down-stairs to her dinner, under the care of the friendly Mattie, whom she had seen in the morning. She was very kind, and meant to make herself very agreeable, and asked many questions, and volunteered various kinds of information as to what Christie might expect in her new place, which she might far better have withheld. Christie had little to say, and made her answers as quietly and briefly as possible.