She was sorry for it, but couldn’t help that; and thereupon, bidding him good-morning, shut the door.
Tom’s wits had come to that condition which just precedes “giving it up” as hopeless, when it occurred to him that he was not far from Mr Kennedy’s residence; so he stepped into the cariole again and drove thither. On his arrival, he threw poor Mrs Kennedy and Kate into great consternation by his exceedingly graphic, and more than slightly exaggerated, account of what had brought him in search of the doctor. At first Mrs Kennedy resolved to go up to Fort Garry immediately, but Kate persuaded her to remain at home, by pointing out that she could herself go, and if anything very serious had occurred (which she didn’t believe), Mr Kennedy could come down for her immediately, while she (Kate) could remain to nurse her brother.
In a few minutes Kate and Tom were seated side by side in the little cariole, driving swiftly up the frozen river; and two hours later the former was seated by her brother’s bedside, watching him, as he slept, with a look of tender affection and solicitude.
Rousing himself from his slumbers, Charley looked vacantly round the room.
“Have you slept well, darling?” inquired Kate, laying her hand lightly on his forehead.
“Slept—eh! oh yes, I’ve slept. I say, Kate, what a precious bump I came down on my head, to be sure!”
“Hush, Charley!” said Kate, perceiving that he was becoming energetic. “Father said you were to keep quiet—and so do I,” she added, with a frown. “Shut your eyes, sir, and go to sleep.”
Charley complied by shutting his eyes, and opening his mouth, and uttering a succession of deep snores.
“Now, you bad boy,” said Kate, “why won’t you try to rest?”
“Because, Kate dear,” said Charley, opening his eyes again—“because I feel as if I had slept a week at least; and not being one of the seven sleepers, I don’t think it necessary to do more in that way just now. Besides, my sweet but particularly wicked sister, I wish just at this moment to have a talk with you.”