"It's, it's all over me," moaned Olga. "My head worst, and my throat.
My throat is dreadful. It makes me want to cry."
There was little that Muriel could do to ease her. She tied back the
tossing hair, and rearranged the bedclothes; then sat down by her
side, hoping she might get some sleep.
Not long after, Nick crept in on slippered feet, but Olga heard him
instantly, and started up with out-flung arms. "Nick, darling, I want
you! I want you! Come quite close! I think I'm going to die. Don't let
me, Nick!"
Muriel rose to make room for him, but he motioned her back sharply;
then knelt down himself by the child's pillow and took her head upon
his arm.
"Stick to it, sweetheart!" he murmured softly. "There's a medicine man
coming, and you'll be better presently." Olga cuddled against him
with a sigh, and comforted by the close holding of his arm dropped
presently into an uneasy doze.
Nick never stirred from his position, and mutely Muriel sat and
watched him. There was a wonderful tenderness about him just then, a
softness with which she was strangely familiar, but which almost she
had forgotten. If she had never seen him before that moment, she knew
that she would have liked him.
He seemed to have wholly forgotten her presence. His entire attention
was concentrated upon the child.
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