“Is she all right?” David Linton’s voice was sharp with anxiety. “She has never moved.”
“The best thing for her,” said the nurse, putting him aside and beginning to massage this new patient. “If I can rub some of the stiffness away before she becomes conscious it will save her a lot. Run away, there’s a dear man, and tell that poor soul in the kitchen that the child is all right.”
“He will live?”
“Rather! That sleep has taken every trace of the fever away. He’s weak, of course, but we can deal with that when there’s no temperature. Tell Eva to make tea—lots of it. We all want it.”
“Thus it was that presently might have been seen the astounding spectacle of a grizzled Australian squatter and a little Cockney serving-maid holding each other’s hands in a back kitchen.
“I knew it was orright when I ’eard you comin’ down the ’all,” said Eva tearfully. “No one’s ’ad that sort of a step in this ’ouse since Master Geoff went sick. The dear lamb! Won’t it be ’evinly to see ’is muddy boot-marks on me clean floor agin! An’ him comin’ to me kitching window an’ askin’ me for grub! I’ll ’ave tea in a jiffy, sir. An’ please ’scuse me for ketchin’ old of you like that, but I’d ’ave bust if I ’adn’t ’eld on to somefink!”
Geoffrey dropped off to sleep again, presently, and Mrs. Hunt came to Norah, who was conscious, and extremely stiff, but otherwise too happy to care for aches and pains. They did not speak at first, those two had gone down to the borderland of Death to bring back little, wandering feet; only they looked at each other, and clung together, still trembling, though only the shadow of fear remained.
After that Geoffrey mended rapidly, and, having been saintlike when very ill, became just an ordinary little sinner in his convalescence, and taxed every one’s patience to keep him amused. Alison and Michael, who were anxiously watched for developing symptoms, refused to develop anything at all, remaining in the rudest health; so that they were presently given the run of all Homewood, and assisted greatly in preventing any of the Tired People from feeling dull.
Norah remained at the cottage, which was placed strictly in quarantine, and played with Geoffrey through the slow days of weakness that the little fellow found so hard to understand. Aids to convalescence came from every quarter. Major Hunt, unable to leave France, sent parcels of such toys and books as could still be bought in half-ruined towns. Wally, who had been given four days’ leave in Paris—which bored him to death—sent truly amazing packages, and the Tired People vied with David Linton in ransacking London for gifts for the sick-room. Geoffrey thought them all very kind, and would have given everything for one hour on Brecon beside Mr. Linton.
“You’ll be able to ride soon, old chap,” Norah said, on his first afternoon out of bed.