“I will tell you all I know, Uncle Andy,” said Kitty remorsefully, as the old man took out a remnant of plaid handkerchief to dry his tears. “What do you want to know next?”
“Whar did de chillen catch de feber?”
“Dr. Lattinger says it is in de atmosphere.”
“Is dat sumpin’ to eat or drink, Kitty?”
“No, it is the air.”
“Den why couldn’t he say de air? Oh, ’twill be mighty hard for Marse Val to part wid dat little boy and gal. Dey is de light of his eyes.”
“But maybe he won’t have to part wid dem, Uncle Andy,” said Kitty, cheerfully, “and de sorrow of a night will be forgot in de joy of de mornin’.”
“But I am afeard dey’ll be taken, Kitty,” sighed the old man tearfully. “I ain’t axed my heavenly Marster to let me lib a little longer, not sense I had seen Marse Val so happy in dem chillen, but I suttenly wants to lib now; an’ if dey is taken I hope de good Lord will spare ol’ Andy to comfort Marse Val.”
Andy was spared this grief, for to the joy of many hearts the children recovered; and when the balmy summer weather came were well enough to enjoy many pleasant drives over the shady country roads.
Hilda, though favored with efficient helpers, lived far from an idle, aimless life, for her days were filled with good works. The plans originated by Mr. Courtney for promoting the temporal and spiritual welfare of his fellow creatures were heartily seconded by her; she was in every way a helpmeet.