She turned her head on the pillow to look at him; and it seemed to him that her eyes were vague, as if they found him indistinct;—she frowned plaintively in an effort to see him more clearly, and was silent for a time.
“Why, yes, grandma,” he answered in surprise. “We’ve just been talkin’ about the baby, grandma; and how much better you are and everything.”
“I know,” she returned with a feeble petulance. “I know what we’re talking about. I wanted you to come to-night because I want to tell you something.”
“It’s this,” she said; then closed her eyes, and when she opened them, asked again: “Is it Dan?”
“Why, yes, of course, grandma! You just said——”
“_I_ know what I said! I wanted to tell you—to tell you——”
“Yes, grandma,” he said, and added indulgently, “Tell me anything you like to.”
“I wanted to tell you not to mind,” she went on. “You mustn’t mind anything that happens. I mean anything I have to do with.”
“No; of course,” he returned without any idea of what she might mean. “Of course I won’t. I won’t mind it.”
“You must be _sure_ not to,” she insisted. “You won’t understand, but you mustn’t let it make you feel hurt with me. You mustn’t——”
“Of course I won’t. Why, I’d never dream of feelin’ hurt with you about anything in the world, grandma.”
“Listen, Dan. I’ve always liked you best since you were a little boy. If you don’t understand something that happens, you remember I said this, will you? What may happen is for your own good and to help you, though it may seem just the other way to you. Will you promise to remember?”
“Of course,” he returned promptly; but she was not satisfied.
“No; I want you to think what you’re saying. You speak too quickly to make me sure you’ll remember. Say it slower, Dan. Say, ‘I promise to remember.’”
“I promise to remember,” he repeated slowly, to indulge this whim of hers; and then asked, “To remember what, grandma?”
“What I’ve just told you. That’s all I have to say, Dan.”
“All right, grandma;—I hope I haven’t stayed long enough to tire you,” he said, and patted her hand as he rose. “I expect you want to drowse a little now. Good-night, grandma.”
“Good-bye,” she said. And her cold and bent fingers feebly clasped his hand, giving it an impulse which he allowed it to follow until he found it resting against her cheek. “Dear boy!” she said faintly; and he was touched by this, the first caress she had given him since he was a child. She retained his hand, keeping it against her cheek a moment longer; then relinquished it gently and said “Good-bye” again.