Part 23 (1/2)

Seven o'clock. Eight o'clock. Then Gracie woke. Gracie, save for weakness, her own bright, clear-headed, intelligent little self. He was once more making up the fire. Turned round at the sound of her voice, to find her sitting up in bed laughing at him.

”Prince Charlie! I'm ashamed of you! You dir-ty boy! Don't you know what tongs are made for?”

Then she laughed at him again! A faint little laugh though, and so exhausting that after it she fell back on the pillows, scant of breath.

The laugh aroused the mother, trained by love to awaken at the least sound. She sprang to her feet and hastened to the bedside. When she saw the change for the better in her child, the smile on the little face, thankfulness overwhelmed her.

Never had waking moments been more sweet. It was less like waking than like a dream itself. She hugged Gracie to her bosom; just escaped crying over her.

Masters smilingly humoured the child--a little tyranny is a welcome sign in a patient; said, suiting the action to the word:

”Well, I'll use the coal scoop, as you object so to my hands.”

”Look at your fingers! Isn't he a dirty boy, mamma? I mustn't let him touch my clean nightgown, must I?”

It was a challenge! Masters saw through the ruse. Her desire was that he should make pretence he wanted to catch hold of her. Then she would struggle to escape him. It was a game she was very fond of--he was to catch her after a long while--and then the romp would begin all over again. Fearing to excite her, he took no notice of the thrown-down glove; merely remarked:

”Well, you look all the better for your sleep.” Added, with a smile: ”Both of you, I mean.”

The mother's heart was too full to speak. Her child was hers once more.

Had come back to her from out the Valley of the Shadow of Death. After a long pause she managed to look up at him, tears bedewing her eyes, and inquire:

”And you?”

”Don't worry about me! I am as right as right can be. Just let me go to your bath-room, will you? I shall emerge from it as fresh as the proverbial lark.”

”You will stop to breakfast--”

Gracie caught the suggestion in a moment; interposed eagerly:

”Oh, yes, Prince Charlie! You will! Won't you? Have breakfast with me--out of my own tea service.”

”Very well. I'll have a bath, and then come and breakfast with you, Gracie--out of your very own cups and saucers and plates. That's understood.”

He went to the bath-room. His matutinal cold water sponge was a thing he would have missed dreadfully. During his absence, the doctor paid an early morning visit.

Masters was pleased when he returned to the sick room to see the happy look on the mother's face. Gracie was out of danger the doctor had said.

Was going on splendidly--thanks, she said, to----

”To Prince Charlie, mamma! I heard the doctor say so. He's a fairy prince who comes and saves little girls.”

Gracie held Prince Charlie with one hand; her mother's with the other, as she spoke:

”Prince Charlie, I want to kiss you.”

He submitted to the wish of the little autocrat. Both her arms went round his neck as she gave him what she called her extra nicest.

After that there was a happy breakfast party. The cups were very small; Gracie, propped up with pillows, had to fill them many times. But that was just as well; the greater demand, the greater her pleasure.