“Yes, far more pleased than to see me.”
“Let her come, then,” was the reply, and hurrying to Lilian, Mildred told her what was wanted.
“Oh, I carn’t, I carn’t!” and Lilian drew back. “I ain’t used to sick folks! I don’t know what to do. You stay, Milly, that’s a dear, good girl.”
“But I can’t,” answered Mildred. “I must go to Oliver, I’ve neglected him too long,” and seeing that Lilian showed no signs of yielding, she took her by the arm, and led her into Lawrence’s chamber.
“Sit there,” she said, placing her in a chair by the bedside, “and when he wakes, give him this,” pointing to something in a cup, which the doctor had prepared.
“Oh, it’s so dark, and his face so white,” sobbed Lilian, while Mildred, feeling strongly inclined to box her ears, bade her once more sit still, and then hurried away.
“There’s grit for you,” muttered the Judge, who in the next room had overheard the whole. “There’s a girl worth having. Why, I’d give more for Milly’s little finger than for that gutta percha’s whole body. Afraid of the dark,—little fool! How can he coo round her as he does! But I’ll put a flea in his ear. I’ll tell him that in Mildred Howell’s face, when she thought that he was dead, I saw who it was she loved. I ain’t blind,” and the Judge paced up and down the room, while Mildred kept on her way, and soon reached the gable-roof.
“A pretty time of day to get here,” growled old Hepsy; “after the worst is over, and he got well to bed. I’d save that city sprig for you again if I was Clubs.”
“Grandmother, please go down,” said Oliver, while Mildred, unmindful of old Hepsy’s presence, wound her arms around his neck, and he could feel her hot tears dropping like rain upon his face, as she whispered:
“Darling Oliver, heaven bless you, even as I do. I knew it must have been so; but why did you risk your life for him? Say, did you?”