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?©, Lyda Farrington

"We Ten Or, The Story of the Roses"

"
Then he told me. "Jack," he said, in a tired, hopeless voice that made a
lump fly into my throat, "I'm in a pretty bad fix, I'm afraid; my poor
old back and my legs have given out. I got a very queer feeling that
time I sat down so suddenly on the steps, and after you'd gone 'twas all
I could do to brace up and drag myself to this floor to call nurse. Then
I crawled in here, and barely got inside the door when I collapsed. My
legs gave way entirely, and down I tumbled just where you see me now."
He threw his arms out again, and twisted one of his hands in the fringe
of the rug on which he was lying; then presently he went on: "Do you
know why I'm still lying here? do you know why, Jack? because"--his
voice shook so he had to stop for a minute--"because, from my waist
down, I can't move my body at all. Unless somebody helps me, I'll
have to lie here all night; _I'm perfectly helpless_!"
I'd been swallowing and swallowing while Fee was talking, but now I
couldn't stand it any longer; I felt awfully unhappy, and I just _had_
to let the tears come. "It's that fall that's done it," I said, trying
to wipe away the tears that came rushing down,--it's so _girlie_ to
cry!--"the day Alan upset you in the schoolroom! Oh, Fee, _do_ let me
call somebody to help you! Phil's downstairs, you know; oh, and the
doctor,--please, _please_ let me ask _him_ to come up! Oh, mayn't I?"
Felix put out his hand and patted my knee in a way that reminded me of
Nannie; he doesn't usually do those things.


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