, she said,
only their nice cool hands; and she wished "they" would come and take
care of her again. But Christine had resigned in toto. If Felipa did not
prefer her to all others, then Felipa could not have her: she was not a
common nurse. And indeed she was not. Her fair beauty, ideal grace,
cooing voice and the strength of her long arms and flexible hands were
like magic to the sick, and--distraction to the well; the well in this
case being Edward Bowne looking in at the door.

"You love them very much, do you not, Felipa?" I said one day when the
child was sitting up for the first time in a cushioned chair.

"Ah, yes: it is so delicious when they carry me," she replied. But it
was Edward who carried her.

"He is very strong," I said.

"Yes, and their long soft hair, with the smell of roses in it too," said
Felipa dreamily. But the hair was Christine's.

"I shall love them for ever, and they will love me for ever," continued
the child. "Drollo too." She patted the dog's head as she spoke, and
then concluded to kiss him on his little inch of forehead: next she
offered him all her medicines and lotions in turn, and he smelled at
them grimly. "He likes to know what I am taking," she explained.

I went on: "You love them, Felipa, and they are fond of you. They will
always remember you, no doubt."

"Remember!" cried Felipa, starting up from her cushions like a
Jack-in-the-box. "They are not going away? Never! never!"

"But of course they must go some time, for--"

But Felipa was gone. Before I could divine her intent she had flung
herself out of her chair down on to the floor, and was crawling on her
hands and knees toward the outer room. I ran after her, but she reached
the door before me, and, dragging her bandaged foot behind her, drew
herself, toward Christine. "You are _not_ going away! You are not! you
are not!" she sobbed, clinging to her skirts.

Christine was reading tranquilly: Edward stood at the outer door mending
his fishing-tackle. The coolness between them remained unwarmed by so
much as a breath. "Run away, child: you disturb me," said Christine,
turning over a leaf. She did not even look at the pathetic little bundle
at her feet. Pathetic little bundles must be taught some time what
ingratitude deserves.

"How can she run, lame as she is?" said Edward from the doorway.

"You are not going away, are you? Tell me you are not," sobbed Felipa in
a passion of tears, beating on the floor with one