The Oriel Window. Molesworth Mrs.

her face with her hands.

      "Oh, papa," she began, but her mother was close behind and caught her in her arms.

      "Hush, dear," she said. "No, no," in answer to the little girl's unuttered question. "Ferdy has opened his eyes and spoken to us; he knew us – papa and me."

      Chrissie's terrors at once made place for hope. Her white face flushed all over.

      "He's spoken to you, mamma? What did he say? Oh, then he can't be so very badly hurt. Oh, mamma, how glad I am!"

      "Be very, very quiet, dear. We can do nothing, and be sure of nothing, till the doctor comes, but – oh yes, thank God, we may hope."

      But by the time they had laid him on the mattress in the oriel room Ferdy looked again so ghastly pale that the poor mother's heart went down. There was little they could do; they scarcely dared to undress him till the surgeon came. It was a terrible hour or two's waiting, for Mr. Stern was out, and Larkins had to ride some considerable way before he caught him up on his morning rounds.

      CHAPTER III

      A STRANGE BIRTHDAY

      Late on the afternoon of that sad day the doctor, coming out of the oriel room, was met by little Christine. She had been watching for him on the stairs. It was his second visit since the morning, and his face was very grave; but its expression altered at once when he caught sight of Chrissie. Though Stern by name, he was very far from stern by nature, and he was very fond of the Ross children, whom he had known nearly all their lives. Besides, it is a doctor's business to cheer up people as much as possible, and he was touched by poor Chrissie's white face. Never had the little girl spent such a miserable day, and thankful though she had been that her darling Ferdy's life had been spared, she was beginning to doubt if after all he was going to get better. Her mother had scarcely left him for an instant; she had been busy arranging the room for him, or rather she had been sitting beside him holding his hand while she gave directions to the servants.

      By the doctor's advice Ferdy's own little bed had been brought into the room, and he himself moved on to it, lifted upon the mattress as he lay; and it had, of course, been necessary to carry out some of the other furniture and rearrange things a little. This would not disturb Ferdy, Mr. Stern said, but Ferdy's head was now aching from the cut on his forehead, though it was not a very bad one, and he was tired and yet restless, and could not bear his mother to move away.

      So there she sat, and Mr. Ross had gone off to Whittingham by a mid-day train, and no one had given much thought to poor Christine.

      "My dear child," said the doctor, "how ill you look! Have you been wandering about by yourself all day?"

      "Yes," said Chrissie simply, her lip quivering as she spoke. "There was nothing I could do to help, and they were all busy."

      "Where is Miss Lilly?" asked Mr. Stern.

      "She wasn't coming to-day. We were to have a holiday. It – it is Ferdy's birthday, you know, and we were going to be so happy. Oh," she cried, as if she could keep back the misery no longer, "to think it is Ferdy's birthday!" and she burst again into deep though not loud sobbing.

      Mr. Stern was very, very sorry for her.

      "Dear Chrissie," he said, "you must not make yourself ill. In a day or two you will be wanted very much indeed, and you must be ready for it. Your brother will want you nearly all day long."

      Chrissie's sobs stopped as if by magic, though they still caught her breath a little, and her face grew all pink and rosy.

      "Will he, will he?" she exclaimed. "Do you mean that he is really going to get better? I thought – I thought – mamma kept shut up in the room, and nobody would tell me – do you really think he is going to get better soon?"

      Mr. Stern took her hand and led her downstairs, and then into the library. There was no one there, but he closed the door.

      "My dear child," he said, "I will tell you all I can," for he knew that Christine was a sensible little girl, and he knew that anything was better than to have her working herself up more and more with miserable fears. "I think Ferdy will be better in a day or two, but we cannot say anything yet about his getting well. Your father has gone to Whittingham to see one of the best doctors, and ask him to come down here to-night or to-morrow to examine your brother, and after that we shall know more. But I am afraid it is very likely that he will have to stay in bed a long time, and if so, you know how much you can do to make the days pass pleasantly for him."

      Chrissie's eyes sparkled through the tears still there. "I don't mind that," she began. "Of course I know it will be very dull and tiresome for him, but nothing seems very bad compared with if he was going to – " she stopped short, and again she grew very white. "Oh, you are sure he isn't going to get worse?" she exclaimed. "I do get so frightened every now and then when I think of how his face looked, and it was bleeding too."

      Mr. Stern patted her hand.

      "You have not seen him since this morning?" he said.

      Chrissie shook her head.

      "Not since papa carried him in," she replied.

      "Would you like to see him very much?"

      "Oh, may I? I'll be very, very quiet and good. I'll bathe my eyes, so that he won't find out I've been crying, and I'll only stay a minute."

      "Run upstairs then and make yourself look as much as usual as you can. I will go back for a moment and tell Mrs. Ross I have given you leave to come in."

      Two minutes or so later Chrissie was tapping very softly at the door of the oriel room.

      "Come in," said Mr. Stern.

      He was not looking at all grave now, but very "smily" and cheerful, which Chrissie was glad of, as it reminded her that she herself must not cry or seem unhappy. But how strange it all was! She would scarcely have known the pretty little sitting-room: Ferdy's bed with a screen round it standing out at one side of the curiously shaped window, her mother's writing-table and other little things gone. Chrissie could not help staring round in surprise, and perhaps because she had a nervous dread of looking at Ferdy.

      He saw her, however, at once.

      "Chrissie," said a weak, rather hoarse little voice, "Chrissie, come here."

      Chrissie choked down the lump in her throat that was beginning to make itself felt again.

      "Kiss me," he said when she was close beside him. He did not look so unlike himself now, though there was a bandage round his forehead and he was very pale. "Kiss me," he said again, and as she stooped down to do so, without speaking, "Chrissie," he whispered, "I don't want mamma to hear – Chrissie, just to think it's my birthday and that it's all through our great wish coming true. Oh, Chrissie!"

      The little girl felt, though she could not see him, that Mr. Stern was watching her, so she made a great effort.

      "I know," she whispered back again, and even into her whisper she managed to put a cheerful sound. "I know, Ferdy darling. But you're going to get better. And you haven't any very bad pains, have you?"

      "Not very bad," he replied. "My head's sore, but I daresay it'll be better to-morrow. But that won't make it right, you see, Chrissie. It's it being my birthday I mind."

      Christine did not know what to say. Her eyes were filling with tears, and she was afraid of Ferdy seeing them. She turned away a little, and as she did so her glance fell on the window, one side of which looked to the west. She and Ferdy had often watched the sunset from there. It was too early yet for that, but signs of its coming near were beginning; already the lovely mingling of colours was gleaming faintly as if behind a gauzy curtain.

      "Ferdy," said Chrissie suddenly, "I think there's going to be a beautiful sunset, and you can see it lovelily the way you're lying. Aren't you awfully glad you're in here? It wouldn't be half so nice in your own room for seeing out, would it?"

      "No, it wouldn't," said Ferdy, more brightly than he had yet spoken. "I can't move my head, only the least bit, but I can see out. Yes, Chrissie, I can see the people on the road – I mean I could if the curtain was a little more pulled back."

      "Of