Then I felt his strong arms under
me, and I was lifted and laid on the sofa.
"Are you hurt, old fellow? are you, Fee?" Phil asked anxiously, bending
over me.
"Mebbe he's faint like; open the window, Master Phil! Children, _don't_
crowd round your brother so," said nurse. "There, now, fan him, an' I'll
bring some water." As she turned away I heard her say,--nurse never can
whisper,--"I don't like his looks; go tell your pa, Master Phil, an' ask
him if you can run for the doctor."
Nannie's fingers tightened round my hand. "O-o-h, my _dear_!" she
whispered.
The quiver in her voice told me that she, too, had heard nurse's remark,
and that she was frightened,--my little twinnie! I think she would
willingly any time suffer pain to spare me. I longed to comfort her,
to tell them all that I was not at all hurt, that I had no pain
whatever,--even the backache, which is my almost daily companion,
having left me since the fall,--yet the terrible languor which
controlled me seemed almost too great to be overcome. Then I thought
of poor Nannie, and the _pater_, and the doctor, and the beastly
fussing and restrictions I'd have to endure, and with a desperate
effort--for my tongue really felt heavy--I managed to get out,
"I'm--not--hurt.
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