"What is your plan?" asked Curtis. It really seemed as if the boys had been
accustomed to gather in that room, by the way in which they now crowded up
as comrades entering into anything that might be proposed.
"You know that before long Lawrence will be able to see you, we hope,"
began Mrs. Sterling, in her cheeriest way. "Gibson, push up that pillow a
little more."
"Oh, I will," cried Curtis, springing forward.
Gibson, in great trepidation at any one performing the office for her
mistress, started to do it, but Curtis was already most gallantly, if a
trifle awkwardly, pushing up the pillow, giving it a rousing thump that got
on the nerves of the maid.
"You should have waited for me," she said tartly.
"Never mind; that is all right." Mrs. Sterling smiled up at him where he
stood, the hot blood in his face, and his eyes downcast. "I'm very much
obliged to you, Curtis. I guess you are accustomed to do it for your
mother," she said encouragingly.
"I do--I am," he said incoherently, beginning to feel better. It was only
Gibson who was cross, he reflected; Mrs. Sterling herself was as nice as
she could be.
"Well now, if I were you," said Mrs. Sterling, turning on her pillow to get
a good look at them all, "I'd form a committee, a comfort committee, to
think up things that will interest Lawrence. And by and by the doctor is
going to let you go to see him, and----"
"What things?" The small boy who had proposed the cheers for Mrs.
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