Baby did the same, crowding into Bill's hand the daisy heads she had plucked. Then, before he knew what she was about, she thrust her sunny face through the bars and kissed him on the lips.
"Take 'at to de baby," was all she had time to say, when her brother caught her in his arms and drew her back.
"Oh, Baby! Baby! you silly, silly girl," he cried. "You may have caught the fever," he exclaimed, his eyes full of fear. And then, moved by a strange wild hope that he might be able to take the infection from her, he kissed her slowly.
"Please, sir," said Nellie, "the doctor says it isn't infectious."
His face cleared.
"Thank you," he said. "Come again when little Bab is better." And so they parted.
When again they crept softly up the rickety stair, their sister lay upon the bed, her tiny hands folded, her eyes closed, her lips parted in a smile. By her side sat the worn-out mother, her head on Bab's pillow. Both were fast asleep.
They laid the flowers on the bed, and very gently Bill just touched Bab's face and gave her the baby's kiss.
They seated themselves on the window-sill beside the pigeon, which had been a little bit neglected in their anxiety, and waited a long, long time. An hour must have passed, and Nellie was the only watcher, for Bill too fell asleep. At last Bab stirred a little. Slowly her wee hands moved until they touched the daisies.
"Who sent 'em?" she whispered.