Yet when the paroxysms of terror shook the emaciated frame, and the
others attempted to reassure Deanie by words, it was her mother who
called for a bit of gay calico, for scissors and needle and thread, and
began dressing a doll in the little sufferer's sight. Laurella had
carried unspoiled the faculty for play, up with her through the years.
"Let her be," the doctor counselled Johnnie, in reply to anxious
inquiries. "Don't you see she's getting the child's attention? The baby
notices. An ounce of happiness is worth a pound of any medicine I
could bring."
And so, when Laurella could no longer sit up, they brought another cot
for her, and she lay all day babbling childish nonsense, and playing
dolls within hand-reach of the sick-bed; while Johnnie with Lissy's
help, tended on them both.
"You've got two babies now, you big, old, solemn Johnnie," Laurella
said, with a ghost of her sparkling smile. "Deanie and me is just of one
age, and that's a fact."
If Pap wanted to see his young wife--and thirst for a sight of her was a
continual craving with him; she was the light of the old sinner's
eyes--he had to go in and look on the child he had injured. This kept
him away pretty effectually after that first fiery scene, when Laurella
had flown at him like a fierce little vixen and told him that she never
wanted to see his face again, that she rued the day she married him, and
intended to leave him as soon as she could put foot to the ground.
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