“I didn’t know,” ventured the nurse, “that he thought he had a lump on his spine.  His back is weak because he won’t try to sit up.  I could have told him there was no lump there.”

Colin gulped and turned his face a little to look at her.

“C-could you?” he said pathetically.

“Yes, sir.”

“There!” said Mary, and she gulped too.

Colin turned on his face again and but for his long-drawn broken breaths, which were the dying down of his storm of sobbing, he lay still for a minute, though great tears streamed down his face and wet the pillow.  Actually the tears meant that a curious great relief had come to him.  Presently he turned and looked at the nurse again and strangely enough he was not like a Rajah at all as he spoke to her.

“Do you think—­I could—­live to grow up?” he said.

The nurse was neither clever nor soft-hearted but she could repeat some of the London doctor’s words.

“You probably will if you will do what you are told to do and not give way to your temper, and stay out a great deal in the fresh air.”

Colin’s tantrum had passed and he was weak and worn out with crying and this perhaps made him feel gentle.  He put out his hand a little toward Mary, and I am glad to say that, her own tantrum having passed, she was softened too and met him half-way with her hand, so that it was a sort of making up.

“I’ll—­I’ll go out with you, Mary,” he said.  “I shan’t hate fresh air if we can find—­” He remembered just in time to stop himself from saying “if we can find the secret garden” and he ended, “I shall like to go out with you if Dickon will come and push my chair.  I do so want to see Dickon and the fox and the crow.”

The nurse remade the tumbled bed and shook and straightened the pillows.  Then she made Colin a cup of beef tea and gave a cup to Mary, who really was very glad to get it after her excitement.  Mrs. Medlock and Martha gladly slipped away, and after everything was neat and calm and in order the nurse looked as if she would very gladly slip away also.  She was a healthy young woman who resented being robbed of her sleep and she yawned quite openly as she looked at Mary, who had pushed her big footstool close to the four-posted bed and was holding Colin’s hand.

“You must go back and get your sleep out,” she said.  “He’ll drop off after a while—­if he’s not too upset.  Then I’ll lie down myself in the next room.”

“Would you like me to sing you that song I learned from my Ayah?” Mary whispered to Colin.

His hand pulled hers gently and he turned his tired eyes on her appealingly.

“Oh, yes!” he answered.  “It’s such a soft song.  I shall go to sleep in a minute.”

“I will put him to sleep,” Mary said to the yawning nurse.  “You can go if you like.”

“Well,” said the nurse, with an attempt at reluctance.  “If he doesn’t go to sleep in half an hour you must call me.”