“That will not make any difference,” was the prompt rejoinder from that lady. “Peter can rake it off and if necessary he can resod it. I shall only be delighted if you young girls can use it, and the favor will all be on my side—” her voice trembled slightly—“for it will give my little daughter so much pleasure.”
“Oh, Nita! you are walking, you will fall and hurt yourself!” exclaimed Nathalie excitedly, as she entered that young lady’s room the Monday after the Flag Drill, and found her walking about with a coolness and ease that she had never before seen her display.
Nita broke into merry laughter at the look of dismay on her friend’s face. “Of course I’m walking, the doctor says I can, so there!” There was a triumphant toss of her head at Nathalie.
“But you have never walked, that is not much since I have known you!” cried the puzzled girl.
“And you thought I never could,” replied the little lady independently. “Well, you are wrong. I used to walk when I felt able, sometimes quite a little. Then a crank of a doctor frightened Mamma to death by telling her I should always lie on my back or side, and for years I have been nailed like a mast to a ship on that couch. But Dr. Morrow says if I have the strength I should walk, and that my strength will come gradually. Oh, who knows what I can do? Walk off this old hump, I hope!”
“Oh, you dear thing!” cried Nathalie, rushing to her friend and giving her a squeeze. “Isn’t that just the loveliest thing? What nice times we can have after a while if you can walk, and Dr. Morrow, I always knew he was a dear!”
“There, don’t squeeze me to bits, but tell me all the things that have happened since the Flag Drill, and oh, Nathalie, your friends are dears. The one you call Grace is sweet, and the other one, why, she isn’t so pretty, but she looks a good sort.”
“She is something more than a ‘good sort,’” answered Nathalie swiftly, “she is a gem, she is so clever and sensible, and, oh, what a friend she has proved to me! She has a wonderful way of helping you over the hard places. But there, I will tell you what Grace said about you, she said you were a sweet little cherub—and—”
“Just arrived from angel land I suppose, with wings all sprouting,” ventured Nita sarcastically. “Well, she ought to see me when I’m mad. Cherub indeed! What did the other one say?”
Nathalie hesitated; her face flushed, “Oh—why, she thought you were a dear, but said you were a bit spoiled.”