Page 198 - A Little Bush Maid

Tn the evening of the third day Mr. Linton came quickly into the
drawing-room. Tears were falling down his face. He went up to Mrs.

Stephenson and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Tt’s—it’s all right, we think," he said brokenly. "He’s conscious and knew
me, dear old chap! T was sitting by the bed, and suddenly his eyes opened
and all the fever had gone. ’Why, Davy!’ he said. T told him everything was

all right, and he mustn’t talk--and he’s taken some nourishment, and gone
off into a natural sleep. Anderson’s delighted." Then he caught Mrs.

Stephenson quickly as she slipped to his feet, unconscious.

Then there were days of dreary waiting, of slow, harassing convalescence.

The patient did not seem to be alive to any outside thought. He gained
strength very slowly, but he lay always silent, asking no questions, only

when Mr. Linton entered the room showing any sign of interest. The doctor
was vaguely puzzled, vaguely anxious.

"Do you think T could go and see him?" Norah was outside the door of the
sick-room. The doctor often found her there-- a little silent figure, listening

vainly for her friend’s voice. She looked up pleadingly. "Not if you think T
oughtn’t to," she said.

"T don’t believe it would hurt him," Dr. Anderson said, looking down at her.
"Might wake him up a bit—T know you won’t excite him."

So it was that the Hermit, waking from a restless sleep, found by his side a
small person with brown curls that he remembered.

"Why, it’s my little friend," he murmured, feeling weakly for her hand.

"This seems a queer world--old friends and new, all mixed up."

"T’m so glad you’re better, dear Mr. Hermit," Norah said. She bent and

kissed him. "And we’re all friends--everybody."

"You did that once before," he said feebly. "No one had kissed me for such
a long, long while. But mustn’t let you."