CHAPTER TWELVE
The morning of the fifth day after his arrival Joyselle went downstairs
early, and out into the garden.
He looked, as he felt, very tired, for he had been with Tommy most of
the time, day and night, and played until even his great strength was
nearly exhausted.
For Tommy had clung to his presence in a very piteous way, crying
weakly, since the fever had gone, every time the Master left the room,
restless and unable to sleep unless played to, capricious and naughty
about his food unless the Master sat by him while he ate.
Many children are disquietingly good during serious illness, and Tommy
had been very patient while at his worst; but once on the road to
recovery, the natural imp in him revived and flourished, making the road
a hard one for his fellow-travellers.
There had been a phase when he smuggled his food under the bedclothes,
pretending with diabolical cleverness to eat it; when the milk left by
his side was poured out of the window the moment he had been left alone.
But Joyselle, discovering these crimes, had taken to sitting by the boy
when his meals were brought, and with him Tommy was almost painfully
eager to be good.
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