morning he rewarded her by opening his eyes and looking about; then, meeting her own anxious gaze, he gave her a weak smile. “I’ve been sick!” he said as if stating an astonishing fact to himself. “I must have given you a lot of trouble.” “Not a bit of it, you dear child,” said Miss Marilla, and then stooped and brushed his forehead with her lips in a motherly kiss. “I’m so glad you’re better!” She passed her hand like soft old fallen rose-leaves over his forehead, and it was moist. She felt of his hands, and they were moist too. She took his temperature,[89] and it had gone down almost to normal. Her eyes were shining with more than professional joy and relief. He had become to her in these hours of nursing and anxiety as her own child. [89] But at the kiss the boy’s eyelashes had swept down upon his cheek; and, when she looked up from reading the thermometer, she saw a tear glisten unwillingly beneath the lashes. The next two days were a time of untold joy to Miss Marilla while she petted and nursed her soldier boy back to some degree of his normal strength. She treated him just as if he were a little child who had dropped from the skies to her loving ministrations. She bathed his face, and puffed up his pillows, and took his temperature, and dosed him, and fed him, and read him to sleep—and Miss Marilla could read well, too; she was always asked to read the chapter at the Fortnightly Club[90] whenever the regular reader whose turn it was failed. And while he was asleep she cooked dainty, appetizing little dishes for him. They had a wonderful time together, and he enjoyed it as much as she did. The fact was he was too weak to object, for the little red devils that get into the blood and kick up the fight commonly entitled grippe had done a thorough work with him; and he was, as he put it, “all in and then some.” [90] He seemed to have gone back to the days of his childhood since the fever began to abate, and he lay in a sweet daze of comfort and rest. His troubles and perplexities and loneliness had dropped away from him, and he felt no desire to think of them. He was having the time of his life. Then suddenly, wholly unannounced and not altogether desired at the present stage of the game, Mary Amber arrived on the scene. [91]
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