"I--I hardly dare hope he will get well, Daddy," I said, "and--and I
don't know yet whether he loves me or not. This evening, in his delirium,
he called me his darling, but never before this has he ever said a word
of love to me. He's just been a friend to me, Daddy, such a friend!"

"How can he help loving you?" said the dear old man.

But I did not answer, and for a time we remained in silence, watching the
wood fire in the tiny chimney, until Susie came in.

"Th' kittle's biled," she announced. "Me cousin Hyatt he've brung some
meat off'n the mash, an' I briled some."

"I'm not very hungry, Susie," I told her.

"Nor me neither, ma'am, with all them goin'-ons," she confided. "But
what's th' use o' despisin' any of th' Lord's blessin's, specially when
they gits kinder scarce?"

So Daddy and I had our supper together, very comfortably, and really I
did manage to eat a little, because the thought struck me that a girl
couldn't possibly be beyond all hope of comfort as long as she had such a
Dad, and I did my best to be brave. But soon after we had finished I
became very restless and nervous, and Dad looked at me and patted my
hand.

"I expect you'd better run along, my dear," he told me. "But you must
really try to have some rest to-night. If that doctor promised to sit up
you might just as well have a little sleep. You mustn't be ill, you know,
for we all need you too much for that."