“Yes, mamma, I’m all better,” said Pollio, his black eyes shining brightly. “My back gave one great sting, and then stopped. Now I want to get up.”
“But, my little love, the doctor says you must lie still.”
“He don’t know. You didn’t tell him ’bout my fire-crackers. Got a million of ’em; must fire ’em off! I don’t like Dr. Field, with his great black eye-bushes. And it’s Fourf of July too!”
Presently there was another wail. Pollio had thought of the fireworks which were to go up that evening from the top of Tower Hill.
“Great red rockets just like stars! O mamma! Posy’ll go, and Teddy’ll go. I must put my clo’es on and get up.”
Nunky whispered to mamma that she might as well let the child try to sit up, as he probably could not do it.
Nunky was right. The moment Pollio was raised in bed, his head felt very strangely. He thought the clock and pictures began to dance, while the bed spun round like a top.
Mamma laid his head back on the pillow, and sponged his face with cold water; and then the room and the things in it stood still, and he felt better.