|• Main||• Contacts|
with the entire race of boys at that moment.
"I'll give it to him, make your mind easy about that," said Charlie,
with an ominous doubling up of his fist. "But Rose isn't
dangerously ill, is she?" he added anxiously, as Aunt Plenty was
seen to trot across the upper hall, shaking a bottle violently as she
"Oh, but she is though. The Doctor don't say much, but he don't
call it a 'chill' any more. It's 'pleurisy' now, and I'm so afraid it will
be pewmonia to-morrow," answered Phebe, with a despairing
glance at the plaster.
Charlie exploded into a stifled laugh at the new pronunciation of
pneumonia, to Phebe's great indignation.
"How can you have the heart to do it, and she in such horrid pain?
Hark to that, and then laugh if you darst," she said with a tragic
gesture, and her black eyes full of fire.
Charlie listened and heard little moans that went to his heart and
made his face as sober as Phebe's. "O uncle, please stop the pain,
and let me rest a minute! Don't tell the boys I wasn't brave. I try to
bear it, but it's so sharp I can't help crying."
Neither could Charlie, when he heard the broken voice say that;
but, boy-like, he wouldn't own it, and said pettishly, as he rubbed
his sleeve across his eyes
"Don't hold that confounded thing right under my nose; the
mustard makes my eyes smart."
"Don't see how it can, when it hasn't any more strength in it than
meal. The Doctor said so, and I'm going to get some better," began
Phebe, not a bit ashamed of the great tears that were bedewing the
"I'll go!" and Charlie was off like a shot, glad of an excuse to get
Page 7 from 10: Back 1 2 3 4 5 6  8 9 10 Forward