“Oh! father, it’s not that!” exclaimed poor Rose almost indignantly; “it’s—it’s—”
Not being able to explain exactly what it was that ailed her, she took refuge in another flood of tears.
“Oh!” she thought to herself, “if I might only stay and nurse him!” but she blushed at the very thought, for she was well aware that she knew no more about scientific nursing than a tortoiseshell cat! Three months of the most tender and careful nursing by Miss Millet failed, however, to set Jeffrey Benson on his legs. He was very patient and courageous. Hope was strong, and he listened with approval and gratitude to his nurse’s teachings.
There came a day, however, which tried him.
“You think me not much better, doctor?” he asked, somewhat anxiously.
“Not much,” returned the doctor, in a low, tender tone; “and I fear that you must make up your mind never again to be quite the same man you were.”
“Never again?” exclaimed the youth, in startled surprise.
The doctor said nothing, but his look was—“never again.”