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?©, Lyda Farrington

"We Ten Or, The Story of the Roses"

Don't--need--doctor."
Nannie gave a little gasp when I spoke, and catching my two hands in
hers, kissed them.
"You old humbug!" cried Phil, gaily,--I could hear the note of relief in
his voice; "I do believe you've been shamming to give us a scare. Open
your eyes this minute."
And then I found that I could raise my lids and look at the dear faces
gathered about me.
"Sure you feel all right, Master Felix?" nurse asked, eyeing me closely.
"Sure," I answered slowly; "only tired."
"Well, if it's only tired you are, the best place is bed, an' we'll not
send for the doctor," she said; and I made no objection, though usually
I hate to go to bed in the day-time.
Not having inherited the good physique of the family, I've spent more
days in bed and on the sofa than I'd be willing to count, and I'm not
anxious for more. Still I would rather do that now than have the doctor
sent for, so without demur I let Phil carry me down to my room, and
undress and put me to bed.
What wouldn't I give to be as strong as he is! And he's gentle with it;
sometimes he provokes me by the way he watches and takes care of me,--as
if I were so fragile I'd go to pieces at a knock,--though in a way I
like it, too, and he doesn't mean to rub it in.


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