Would you like
that name?'
'Iss,' was Jerry's reply, in the quick, half-lisping way which made the
monosyllable so attractive.
'Well, then, Cherry,' Arthur continued, 'take off that bonnet, and open
the blind behind me so I can see your face. Then bring that stool and
sit where I can look at you while you rub my head with your hands. It
aches enough to split, and I believe the bumble bees are swarming; but
they can't get out, and if they could, they are the white-faced kind,
which never sting.'
Jerry knew all about white-faced bumble-bees, for Harold had caught them
for her, and with this fear removed, she did as Arthur bade her, and was
soon seated at his side, rubbing his forehead, where the blue veins were
standing out full and round, and smoothing his hair caressingly with her
fingers, which seemed to have in them a healing power, for the pain and
heat grew less under their touch, and, after a while Arthur fell into a
quiet sleep.
When he awoke, after half an hour or so, it was with a delicious sense
of rest and freedom from pain. Jerry had dropped the shades to shut out
the sunlight, and was walking on tiptoe round the room, arranging the
furniture and talking to herself in whispers, as she usually did when
playing alone.
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