What an active attentive little nurse did Fanny make, and how pleasantly and gently she talked to Norman, telling him all sorts of things which she could think of, to interest him. She daily brought him his
meals; he said that he would rather take them from her than from any one else, as the tea and broth and pudding always tasted nicer when she gave them to him.
She had not liked to talk of Robby and Alec for fear of reminding him of Pecksy. One day when she brought him a cup of broth, and he was sitting propped up with pillows, he threw his arms round her neck.
“You dear, kind sister,” he said, “how good you are to me, and I have never been good to you; I don’t think anybody else would be as kind to me if I had treated them as I have you.”
“Oh, but you know I love you, Norman, and though you have been angry sometimes, that should not make me cease to love you. But here, take the broth, and then I will tell you that not only I, but others care for you, and have prayed that you might be made well, whom you have treated rudely and ill.”
Norman took the broth and then he asked—
“Who are they who care for me besides mamma and perhaps granny?”
“Of course, granny cares for you very much indeed,” said Fanny, who did not like her brother to say that. “And so do others;” and then she told him how day after day old Alec and Robby had come to the house to inquire for him, how grieved Robby had been when he heard that he was ill, and how thankful when he was told that he was recovering.
“That little boy!” exclaimed Norman; “why, I always abused him and scolded him, and now I remember I kicked him in the carriage, and called him names when he ran after me. It was he who threw the end of his handkerchief to me, when I fell into the water. Oh yes! and I pulled him in too, when he was trying to help me, and he might have been drowned. He can only hate me, I should think.”