"Plenty of nourishment, remember, Mr. Goodman," said the doctor; "you must really see that your wife carries out my instructions. And you, my dear lady, mustn't trouble about want of appetite. The appetite will come all in good time, if you do what I tell you. Good-afternoon."
Little Grace Goodman gazed after the retreating figure of the doctor; and when the door closed behind him and her father, she turned to look at her mother.
Mrs. Goodman looked very pale and ill, and as she lay back in her cushioned-chair she tried to wipe away a tear unseen. But Grace's sight was very sharp, and she ran across the room and threw her arms impetuously round her mother's neck.
"Oh, mother, are you very miserable?" she asked, while her own lip quivered pitifully.
"No, no, my darling, not 'very miserable,'" answered her mother, kissing the little girl tenderly. "Hush! don't cry, my love, or you will make father unhappy. Here he comes."
Mr. Goodman re-entered the room looking very thoughtful; but as he came and sat down beside his wife, he smiled and said cheerfully, "You will soon be well now, the doctor says. The worst is over, and you only need strengthening."
Mrs. Goodman smiled sadly.
"He little knows how impossible it is to carry out his orders," she said.
"Not impossible. We shall be able to manage it, I think."
A sudden light of hope sprang into the sick lady's eyes.