He wondered miserably where
his grandfather's old cane was, when he should be strong enough in
his pain-locked muscles to leave his rocking-chair and crawl about in
the spring sunshine. It used to be in the garret of the old house. He
thought that he would ask Rebecca or William to look for it some day.
He hesitated to speak about it. He half dreaded to think that the
time was coming when he would be strong enough to move about, for
then he was afraid Charlotte would leave him and go home. He had been
afraid that she would when he left his bed. He had a childishly
guilty feeling that he had perhaps stayed there a little longer than
was necessary on that account. One Sunday the doctor had said quite
decisively to Charlotte, "It won't hurt him any to be got up a little
while to-morrow. It will be better for him. You can get William to
come in and help." Charlotte had come back from the door and reported
to Barney, and he had turned his face away with a quivering sigh.
"Why, what is the matter? Don't you want to be got up?" asked
Charlotte.
"Yes," said Barney, miserably.
"What is the matter?" Charlotte said, bending over him. "Don't you
feel well enough?"
Barney gave her a pitiful, shamed look like a child. "You'll go,
then," he half sobbed.
Charlotte turned away quickly. "I shall not go as long as you need
me, Barney," she said, with a patient dignity.
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