[Illustration: "'OH, _FEE!_ DID YOU FALL? HAVE YOU HURT YOURSELF?'"]
"Shut the door," Felix said; he spoke slowly, as if he were very tired.
His face looked badly, too,--pale, and with black rings under his eyes
away below his glasses. And there was something in the way he lay
there--a limpness and helplessness--that somehow frightened me, and made
me feel right away as if I ought to call nurse or somebody. But I know
Fee likes to have people do as he tells them, so first I shut the door
tight, then I came back and knelt down by him again. "Hadn't I better
help you up, Fee?" I asked, "or shall I call"--I was going to say
"Nannie or Phil," but remembered they were helping papa, and ended up
with "somebody?"
But Felix only said, "How's father? Tell me about him."
He listened to all I could tell about papa; then, when I had finished,
he threw his arms wide apart on the floor with a groan, and rolled his
head impatiently from side to side. I just _longed_ to do something for
him,--dear old Fee!
"Don't you want to get up?" I asked again, in as coaxing a way as I
could. "I could help you, you know, Fee; the floor is so hard for
your back.
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