“Hush, my dear,” said the old lady softly. “You must be very quiet, or you will be ill again, and you have been very bad,—as bad as bad could be, pretty nigh. Lie down again—there’s a dear.” With these words the old lady very gently placed Oliver’s head upon the pillow, and, smoothing back his hair from his forehead, looked so kindly and lovingly in his face, that he could not help placing his little withered hand upon hers, and drawing it round his neck. “Save us!” said the old lady, with tears in her eyes, “what a grateful little dear it is. Pretty creetur! what would his mother feel if she had sat by him as I have, and could see him now!” “Perhaps she does see me,” whispered Oliver, folding his hands together; “perhaps she has sat by me, ma’am. I almost feel as if she had.” “That was the fever, my dear,” said the old lady mildly. “I suppose it was,” replied Oliver thoughtfully, “because heaven is a long way off, and they are too happy there to come down to the bedside of a poor boy. But if she knew I was ill, she must have pitied me even there, for she was very ill herself before she died. She can’t know anything about me though,” added Oliver after a moment’s silence, “for if she had seen me beat, it would have made her sorrowful; and her face has always looked sweet and happy when I have dreamt of her.” The old lady made no reply to this, but wiping her eyes first, and her spectacles, which lay on the counterpane, afterwards, as if they were part and parcel of those features, brought some cool stuff for Oliver to drink, and then patting him on the cheek, told him he must lie very quiet, or he would be ill again. So Oliver kept very still, partly because he was anxious to obey the kind old lady in all things, and partly, to tell the truth, because he was completely exhausted with what he had already said. He soon fell into a gentle doze, from which he was awakened by the light of a candle, which, being brought near the bed, showed him a gentleman, with a very large and loud-ticking gold watch in his hand, who felt his pulse and said he was a great deal better. “You _are_ a great deal better, are you not, my dear?” said the gentleman. “Yes, thank you, sir,” replied Oliver. “Yes, I know you are,” said the gentleman: “You’re hungry too, an’t you?” “No, sir,” answered Oliver. “Hem!” said the gentleman. “No, I know you’re not. He is not hungry, Mrs. Bedwin,” said the gentleman, looking very wise. The old lady made a respectful inclination of the head, which seemed to say that she thought the doctor was a very clever man. The doctor appeared very much of the same opinion himself. “You feel sleepy, don’t you, my dear?” said the doctor. “No, sir,” replied Oliver. “No,” said the doctor with a very shrewd and satisfied look. “You’re not sleepy. Nor thirsty, are you?” “Yes, sir, rather thirsty,” answered Oliver.