“‘Ah, ha! a very nice name, too, it is. And the pretty little girl whose life you saved is the sweetest little angel that ever touched the earth!’
“‘Who is she?’ Harry inquired.
“‘Viola Bramlett is her name. She is the daughter of Mr. Bolivar Bramlett, of New York City, who is traveling in the South for the benefit of his wife’s health. They have been stopping at this hotel some three or four weeks, and being called in to see Mrs. Bramlett professionally, I have had a chance to become well acquainted with the family; therefore, you see, I speak advisedly when I say that little Viola is an angel.’
“‘I hope,’ said Harry, ‘that she is not badly hurt.’
“‘Oh, no; she is not hurt much at all—a slight contusion on the temple, and a few scratches from the briars—that’s all. Her father will be in to see you directly; he is overwhelmed with gratitude to you; and little Viola (Heaven bless her!), won’t talk about anything except the pretty little brave boy who kept her from being killed. She insisted on coming to see you now, but I persuaded her to wait till your wounds were dressed. So you see that you may expect soon to be overflowed with thanks and kisses from the sweetest little darling that the world ever saw. Ah, you’re a lucky lad, anyway. Good morning; I’ll see you again this evening; don’t move the wounded leg; keep it perfectly still, and talk as much as you please to the little angel when she comes to see you.’
“Then the old surgeon bustled out of the room, and went to visit his other patients. It was but a little while after Harry’s wounds had been dressed when Viola came bounding into the room, threw her arms round his neck, kissing his lips at least a dozen times in rapid succession. Then she said, with a voice which I thought very sweet and musical: ‘Oh, you don’t know how much I thank you for saving my life! Papa says that I should have been crushed to death but for your bravery. He says you are a real hero, and he is going to divide all his money with you. My papa has great heaps of money, and he is going to give you half of it, and I am to have the other half. Now, won’t that be nice?’
“I watched her movements with intense interest, and concluded that the old surgeon’s description of her charms had not been exaggerated. Harry gazed at her with such a look of admiration that I was convinced that he concurred in the opinion expressed by the surgeon in regard to her exceeding great beauty. Mr. Bramlett then made his appearance, and was very enthusiastic and profuse in his thanks to Harry for saving his little darling, as he called Viola.
“‘She is all we have, sir, and if she had been taken from us, it would have been a fatal blow to our happiness. Words cannot express the gratitude we feel toward you; and, as soon as you get well, we shall talk more about it. I am a man of business, and not a man of many words; therefore, you shall hear from me again when you get well;’ then, bending down, he gathered Viola to his heart, and as he kissed her fervently, said: ‘Go now, my darling, and get some choice flowers for the little brave hero who risked his life to save you. You must be his nurse, you know, and must keep him well supplied with flowers and iced lemonade, etc., etc;’ and before the sentence was finished Viola had skipped off to collect the flowers.
“Very soon she came in with her apron full of roses, pinks and geraniums, and deposited them in great heaps on Harry’s bed, filling the chamber with their sweet odor.
“‘Now, Mr. Harry,’ she said, ‘there’s your nice flowers; and, while you are enjoying their fragrance, I must go and fetch you some lemonade and ice. Papa is making the lemonade for you, and he told me to give you the flowers, and then to come for the lemonade.’