“I don’t know,” he replied. “When you kissed me, the pain got worse for a moment; it gave a great stab, but now it seems better. If you’ll kiss me again, Mavis, the last thing when you say good-night, perhaps I’ll be able to go to sleep.”
She stayed beside him all the rest of the evening. He scarcely spoke, only groaning a little from time to time. When Miss Hortensia came in to send Mavis to bed, she began for the first time to feel really uneasy about the boy.
“Mavis,” she said, not meaning Bertrand to hear, “if he isn’t better to-morrow morning, we must send for the doctor.”
“Perhaps,” said the little girl, “he could do something to take away the aching—poor Bertrand is aching all over from his fall.”
“I don’t mind that,” said the boy suddenly. “It isn’t that, you know it isn’t, Mavis, and I won’t have the doctor.”
Ruby, who had stolen in behind her cousin, crept up to Mavis.
“Do you think,” she whispered, “do you think, Mavis, that he has seen her, and that that’s it?” Mavis did not answer.
“Bertrand,” she said, “we are going to bed now; do you mind being left alone for the night?”
“No,” he said, “I’d rather, unless it was you, and you can’t stay. You’d be too tired. Listen,” and he drew her down to him, “do you think perhaps she’ll come again and take away the pain? For I am sorry now—I am sorry—and I didn’t know how bad I was.”
“Poor Bertrand,” whispered Mavis pityingly. “Perhaps she will come. Any way, if you are patient and try to think the pain has to be, I think it will get better, even if it doesn’t go away altogether.”