Page:Wiggin--Ladies-in-waiting.djvu/152

  Amanda turned sharply at the sound of his voice as she was lifting the steaming arrowroot out of the water.

“Whose cat is this?”

“Mine.—Come off that bed, Tristram!”

“Don’t disturb him; I like to have him there.—Where’s Abby Thatcher?”

“She’s gone home on an errand; she’ll be back in fifteen minutes now.”

“Where’s William?”

“It’s only five o’clock. He don’t come till six. What can I get for you? Have you had a good sleep?”

She set the gruel on the back of the stove and went in to his bedside.

“I don’t sleep much; I just lie an’ think … Amanda, … now, they’re all away, … if I get over this spell, … an’ take a year to straighten up an’ get hold o’ things like other folks, … do you think … you’d risk … marryin’ me?”

There was a moment’s dead silence; then Amanda said, turning pale: “Are you in your right mind, Caleb Kimball?”