Jim nodded at her indulgently.
“Anyway, you’re around at last, Molly, and I’m God thankful that’s so. These hills’ll soon set colour in your cheeks, and in a day or so you’ll be racing down this old valley of ours in the saddle. Why—— Oh,” he cried, as he took possession of Blanche’s chair, “Sis has beat it. Well, we’ll sit around and yarn.”
He glanced round at the open French window through which Blanche had retreated. Then, for all his promise of talk, he gazed out down the valley and remained silent.
Molly made no attempt to reply. She was beyond words, completely overwhelmed by the presence of this white-haired man whom she had learned to know only through his sister. At last, however, a single remark from Jim set a great peace sweeping through her troubled soul.
“God Almighty’s pretty good, Molly,” he said, in a voice that rang with sincerity. “I’ve just lived for the day when I could pass a hand to those who helped me to the life that looked to be passing right out of me. You were part of that bunch.”
For the first time the girl dared to look into his face. But it was with a mist of tears that blurred her vision that she stumbled out her reply.
“I—I’m—just glad,” she said.
And after that talk came easily, and they sat on talking, talking, with the intimacy of a great friendship.
And so Blanche found them later, when she deemed it the moment to exercise her authority as nurse. She took Molly back to her room with a feeling of great thankfulness at the amazing change Jim had wrought in her. The girl was transformed.