A day or two after his fever turned, Oscar wished to sit up in a chair, and begged very hard to be allowed to get up from the bed.

“Why, Oscar,” said his mother, “you could not sit up two minutes, if I should put you in a chair.  You have no idea how weak you are.”

“No, I aint weak,” replied Oscar; “I bet you I can walk across the room just as well as you can—­you don’t know how strong I ’ve grown within a day or two.  Come, mother, do let me get up, will you?”

“You are crazy to talk so, my son,” answered Mrs. Preston.  “If you should try to stand up, you would faint away as dead as a log.  It will be a week before you are strong enough to walk about.”

“I believe you mean to keep me sick as long as you can,” was Oscar’s unfeeling reply.  “I am tired almost to death of laying a-bed,” he added, and the tears began to gather in his eyes.

His mother felt hurt by these words, but she attributed them to the weakening and irritating influence of disease, and forgave them as quickly as they were uttered.  She even yielded to his wishes so far as to offer to let him sit up in bed a little while.  He gladly acceded to the proposal, and putting his arms around her neck, she slowly raised him up; but he had no sooner reached an upright position than his head began to “fly round like a top,” and he was very glad to be let down again to his pillow.  This little experiment satisfied him for the day.

It was a fine April morning when Oscar was first taken up from his sick bed, and placed in an easy chair, well lined with blankets and comforters.  This was a memorable event in his life, the first time he sat up after nearly three weeks’ confinement to his bed.  He was dragged to the front window, from which he could see the people upon the street below.  How familiar, and yet how strange, everything and everybody looked to his sick eyes!  And then, to have his toast and drink set before him upon a corner of the table, where he could help himself, and eat and drink with some comfort,—­was n’t that “grand,” to use his own expressive term!

Oscar’s recovery was now pretty rapid, but his mother had to watch him very sharply, to prevent him from running into excesses, to which his impatience continually prompted him.  It was hard to make him realize that there was yet some danger of a relapse, and that prudence would be necessary for several weeks to come.

CHAPTER XIII.

GETTING WELL.

Oscar had reason to remember the first time he went down stairs, after his fit of sickness.  It was in the night-time.  He awoke, feeling quite hungry; for he was yet kept on a spare diet, which was far from satisfying the cravings of his appetite.  He was alone in his room, and all the rest of the family were asleep.  A lamp was burning dimly in the fire-place of his chamber, and the door that led into his mother’s room was open, that she might be ready, at the least sound of alarm.  After thinking the matter over a few minutes, and satisfying himself that no one in the house was awake, he determined to go down stairs in quest of something to eat.