I
must have more air, dear. Help me sit up, Em, and you can shake these
pillows up again. I think I'm a good deal sicker man than Allan has any
idea----"
Emeline got very tired of it, especially as George was much better on
the third day, and could sit up. He developed a stiff neck, which made
him very irritable, and even Julia "got on his nerves" and was banished
for the day to the company of the cheerful Jewish family who lived on an
upper floor. He sat in an armchair, wrapped in blankets, his rigid gaze
roving a pitifully restricted perspective of street outside the window,
an elaborate cough occasionally racking him.
Emeline had gotten a fairly tempting dinner under way. She could cook
some things well, and at five o'clock she came in from the kitchen with
an appetizing tray.
"Gosh, is it dinner time?" asked George.
"After five," Emeline said, flitting about the bed-room. Julia had come
home now, sweet and tired, and was silently eating slice after slice of
bread and jelly. Emeline opened out the bed lounge, spread sheets and
blankets smoothly, and flung a clean little nightgown for Julia across
the foot.
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