"He will get well now."

"He was middlin' discouraged," said Uncle William.

"He couldn't see anything the way it is." Her face had flushed a little,
but the light in her eyes was clear.

Uncle William met it. "You showed a good deal of sense," he said.

The face, as she pushed back the hair from it, looked tired. "I had to
think for two."

Uncle William nodded. "He wants to see you."

She mused over it. "Do you think I'd better?"

"No," said Uncle William, promptly.

Her lips remained parted. "Not to-morrow?" she said. Her lips closed on
the word gently.

"Not for a considabul spell." Uncle William shook his head. "He ain't
acted right."

"He was ill."

"He was sick," admitted Uncle William, "--some. But it was some
cussedness, too. That ain't the main thing though." Uncle William leaned
nearer. "He'll get well faster if he has suthin' to kind o' pester him."