He
didn't know the fellows were keeping it up to get his mind away from the
funeral. He was thinking about that girl.
The doctor had told him that she was very much run down. It looked as if
the process had been going on for some time. Her heart action was not
all it should be, and there were symptoms of lack of nutrition. What she
needed was rest, utter rest. Sleep if possible most of the time for at
least a week, with, careful feeding every two or three hours, and after
that a quiet, cheerful place with plenty of fresh air and sunshine and
more sleep; no anxiety, and nothing to call on the exhausted energies
for action or hurry.
Now how was a state of things like that to be brought about for a person
who had no home, no friends, no money, and no time to lie idle?
Moreover, how could there be any cheerful spot in the wide world for a
little girl who had passed through the fire as she had done?
Presently he went out to the drug-store and telephoned to the hospital.
They said she had had only one more slight turn of unconsciousness, but
had rallied from it quickly and was resting quietly now. They hoped she
would have a good night.
Then he went back to his room and thought about her some more. He had an
important English examination the next day, one in which he especially
wanted to do well; yet try as he would to concentrate on Wells and Shaw,
that girl and what was going to become of her would get in between him
and his book.
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