“You are not well. Can I do anything?”
“You are doing it.”
“I know.... I wish I could take care of you——”
“You’re going to feed me, presently.”
“You make a joke of it; but you’re ill, and I did it!”
“Blessed child, I’ll be so fat in a week that I’ll waddle like Hattie!”
“Show me,” she urged, enchanted.
He got up and tried to waddle, and she sank back, convulsed.
In fact, they both had become rather light headed by the time Hattie announced dinner.
It was love’s April—gusty with unbidden gaiety—with heavenly intervals of calm; of caprice; of stormy contact; of smiles, tremulous, close to tears—lips touching in wonder; and the sudden breeze of laughter freshening, refreshing mind and body:—their April in Love after youth’s long winter.