Page:Lippincotts Monthly Magazine-70.djvu/411

Rh has all that to work off on me. I don't even dare touch these pillows after she's been at them. They are all right by the book, I suppose, but they don't fit my back."

"If I were to move them," said Virginia weakly, "you could put the blame on me if she minded. Can you sit up a minute?"

"No, you mustn't bother," said Jack; "I have to be boosted and pulled, and I'm too heavy for you; there is a good deal of weight still left in my bones."

"Oh, if that's all, I'm strong enough for anything."

Jack eyed her with the utmost wistfulness. "You look strong," he went on, humbly cajoling. "You wouldn't come and sit beside me and let me lean on you, just for a minute?"

"You poor child, why not?"

It is possible that Virginia exaggerated the maternal quality of the impulse which made her so ready to take the boy in her arms and let him nestle his head luxuriously against her, like a weak and weary child. He gave a sigh of utter satisfaction. "How delicious you are! So soft and warm. Ifs heavenly to be here, but—you must be an awful humbug!"

"Humbug?" she questioned, enchanted to hear the little teasing note in his voice.

"Yes, deceitful! You make Henrietta think you are her kind, made up of pamphlets and ink, and all the time you are as frivolous as anybody."

"How do you make that out, please, sir?"

"Easy enough. No one whose heart and soul are truly fixed on street-cleaning and the like has time or money to smell of violets." Turning, he buried his face closer against her. "Listerine, perhaps, or tar soap, never violets."

"Don't you think. Jack, that you are just a little personal?"

"Personal! If you only knew the things I'm not saying for fear you'd be angry and stay away!"

Quivering and ardent, he tried to raise himself. "You are not provoked? You'll come again?"

"You silly child, you'll hurt yourself, do be still," murmured Virginia, her cheek almost resting on his crisp brown hair. "This boy," she mentally reassured herself, "is shut up all day with two automatons and naturally wants petting. If I feel this as personal to myself, my vanity and self-consciousness will prevent my being of any use to him." Then, bending her head a little further, she kissed him on the forehead.

As she went downstairs Henrietta emerged from the parlor, full of praise for Miss Dryden's self-abnegation in giving so much time to humoring the fancies of a sick boy.