“And I may sit and fan you while you write it, mayn’t I?”
“Yes; I shall be glad to have you do so.”
Grandma Elsie was watching over her daughter’s slumbers, carefully guarding her from disturbance, and especially from any intruder who would bring the evil tidings of her husband’s injury.
At length Violet woke and looked up into her mother’s face with a bright, sweet smile. “I feel very comfortable,” she said. “I must have slept a good while, have I not? and how kind in you, dearest mamma, to watch over me so tenderly. I fear you must be fatigued; and it strikes me you look a trifle weary and troubled. Is any thing wrong?” Then with a quick glance round the room, “Where is my husband?”
“Down stairs.”
“I wish he would come up; please send him word that I am awake and want to see him. He will come up at once, I know.”
Elsie bent down and kissed the pale cheek before she answered.
“If you can spare me for a few minutes, I’ll go and tell him myself,” she said, with playful look and smile.
“But why not send a servant, mamma dear? I don’t want you tiring yourself going up and down on my errands.”
“But I have a fancy for doing it this once; I’ve been sitting still a long while, and a little exercise will be good for me.”