The girl pouted adorably. It was very evident that she liked to be petted, coaxed, and spoiled. If there was a woman slumbering under all this dimpling, infantile charm, she was quite indiscernible to the woman who held her.
Slowly she bent over the girl and let her face show all the delight she could feel in her prettiness and baby ways. There must be sympathy between them or her task would be hopeless. “There, let me untie that bewitching bonnet of yours and take off your gloves. We have a lot to tell each other before you see your soldier.”
“But Phil—won’t he be waiting, wondering why I don’t come? Oh, I’m just crazy to see him!”
“He doesn’t know you’re here yet.”
“Oh!” The smooth, white forehead did its utmost to manage a frown. “Why, didn’t he send for me?”
“No.”
“Who did? His mother wrote.”
“I sent.”
The round, childish eyes filled with apprehension; she wrenched herself free of Sheila’s arms. “He isn’t going to—The letter said—?”
“He’s better. Sit down, dear. That’s what we have to talk over. His body is mending fast, but his mind—well, his mind has been taken prisoner.”