"I shall go now to telephone to her. Try to get a little rest before dinner."
Alone with Mary, Sister Julia seized the chance to have a little talk with her.
"There is one very important thing, dear, in this kind of illness, and that is the fight which the patient herself makes."
"Fight, Sister? You mean that I must punch something the way I saw boys doing to each other out on the sidewalk one day?"
"No, dear, I mean that you must make up your mind that you are going to get well as soon as possible and——"
"And I am, Sister. I take my medicine even though it has a very bad taste. I try to remember what you told me about our Lord—that they gave Him a bitter, bitter drink when He was hanging on the cross and said, 'I thirst.' But—but I can't help screaming sometimes when the pain is so dreadful. I seem to forget everything then."
"Indeed, you have been very good and patient, dear; but in spite of the pain and the bad dreams, you must say to yourself, 'I am going to be well and strong very soon.'"
Often in the days which followed, when Mary was delirious from fever and pain, the hearts of those at her bedside were wrung by her cry, "But I am going to be well and strong soon, I am, I am!" Then she would beg them not to let her fall into the big, black hole where wicked men were waiting to stick long knives into her. Sometimes, she knew those about her for a few minutes, but the greater part of the time she was not conscious. Sister Madeline and Sister Austin came in from Maryvale to see her; Sister Florian with a companion called several times; but the little girl had no memory of their visits when asked later about them. Father Lacey called one afternoon and read a Gospel over her; but she gave no sign that she knew he was there until after he had left the room. Then she murmured, "Sister—was Father Lacey—here?"
"Yes, dear, he has just left the room."
"I—would like—to see him,—please."