"And how is he, aunty?" Ruth asked in a breathless tone before the
front door could be closed.
"Getting on splendidly, my dear. Slept pretty well. It is a
dreadful place for any one to be in, but I suppose he is
accustomed to it by this time."
"And is he no worse for coming to meet us, Aunt Felicia?" Ruth
asked, her voice betraying her anxiety. She had relieved the old
lady of her cloak now, and had passed one arm around her slender
waist.
"No, he doesn't seem to be, dearie. Tired, of course--and it may
keep him in bed a day or two longer, but it won't make any
difference in his getting well. He will be out in a week or so."
Ruth paused for a moment and then asked in a hesitating way, all
her sympathy in her eyes:
"And I don't suppose there is anybody to look after him, is
there?"
"Oh, yes, plenty: Mrs. Hicks seems a kind, motherly person, and
then Mr. Bolton's sister runs in and out." It was marvellous how
little interest the dear woman took in the condition of the
patient. Again the girl paused.
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