HE second evening after Reginald's accident, Mr. Fairfax sat down by his cot, and taking up his little brown hand, said cheerily, “Well, Master Regie, we shall need to have a nurse for you.”
“I should think I was rather too old for that, sick or well,” replied Regie, biting his lip, lest unruly tears should betray that he was not so very old after all.
“Why, Reginald,” laughed Mr. Fairfax, “grown-up people have nurses when they break their legs, and are glad enough to get them. Your mamma Fairfax will never be able to do all that must be done for you, and Dr. Delano knows of a splendid nurse. He is sure you will like her, and he would be glad to have her come here to the seashore for a while. He says it will do her good as well as you.”
So it happened that Sister Julia arrived the very next day, and Regie grew fond of her in almost less time than it takes to tell it. He thought she had the sweetest face he had ever seen, and a good many other people thought so too. She always wore a pretty cap, a little square shawl, and a long full apron, all made of the same soft, white material.
“Of course,” thought Regie, “it's all right for a nurse to wear an apron, and I know some children have French nurses with caps; but Sister Julia is not French, and besides, what's the use of the little shawl?” and as was usual when he did not thoroughly understand anything, he soon made inquiries on the subject.
Sister Julia was sitting at the east window of Regie's room, watching two schooners far out at sea, whose sails, aglow with the red light of the sunset, made them look like fairy boats of conkshell. “Oh, Regie!” she said, at last, earnestly, “I never saw the ocean as beautiful as it is to-night. I wish you were able to have me lift you up, so that you could have a look at it.”