"I'll slave for you," she said wildly. "I'll do any mortal thing I can. If you leave me here I'll go mad. I 'spect you must hate me, but Dick doesn't, though I don't know why he doesn't. Nobody can hate me like I do myself."
"Nobody hates you at all, Merle."
"People must. D'you think I don't know what I've done?" the child stammered. "Wouldn't you let me come, just for a bit, to work for you—to help you to look after Dick? I'd never be any trouble. I can do my own hair and everything. I'd just be legs for Dick!"
"Legs?" queried Mrs. Lester, puzzled.
"Yes. It's all my fault he can't use his. If I came I could just be there to hand him things and run his errands. He doesn't mind telling me to do things, but he won't ask you, 'cause he hates you to get tired. Oh, couldn't I come, just as Dick's legs?"
Mr. Lester appeared in the doorway.
"Take care—Dick is awake."
They heard Dick's voice, "Mother."
"Yes, sonnie." Mrs. Lester put Merle aside and went in.
"Don't let that poor kiddie cry," he said. "I say, couldn't we take her?"