“Then the old surgeon bustled out of the room, and went to visit his other patients. It was but a little while after Harry’s wounds had been dressed when Viola came bounding into the room, threw her arms round his neck, kissing his lips at least a dozen times in rapid succession. Then she said, with a voice which I thought very sweet and musical: ‘Oh, you don’t know how much I thank you for saving my life! Papa says that I should have been crushed to death but for your bravery. He says you are a real hero, and he is going to divide all his money with you. My papa has great heaps of money, and he is going to give you half of it, and I am to have the other half. Now, won’t that be nice?’ “I watched her movements with intense interest, and concluded that the old surgeon’s description of her charms had not been exaggerated. Harry gazed at her with such a look of admiration that I was convinced that he concurred in the opinion expressed by the surgeon in regard to her exceeding great beauty. Mr. Bramlett then made his appearance, and was very enthusiastic and profuse in his thanks to Harry for saving his little darling, as he called Viola. “‘She is all we have, sir, and if she had been taken from us, it would have been a fatal blow to our happiness. Words cannot express the gratitude we feel toward you; and, as soon as you get well, we shall talk more about it. I am a man of business, and not a man of many words; therefore, you shall hear from me again when you get well;’ then, bending down, he gathered Viola to his heart, and as he kissed her fervently, said: ‘Go now, my darling, and get some choice flowers for the little brave hero who risked his life to save you. You must be his nurse, you know, and must keep him well supplied with flowers and iced lemonade, etc., etc;’ and before the sentence was finished Viola had skipped off to collect the flowers. “Very soon she came in with her apron full of roses, pinks and geraniums, and deposited them in great heaps on Harry’s bed, filling the chamber with their sweet odor. “‘Now, Mr. Harry,’ she said, ‘there’s your nice flowers; and, while you are enjoying their fragrance, I must go and fetch you some lemonade and ice. Papa is making the lemonade for you, and he told me to give you the flowers, and then to come for the lemonade.’ “She was gone but a moment, when she returned with a little tray, on which sat three goblets full of lemonade and ice; giving the first goblet to Harry, she then gave the other two to Lottie and me. When she went out Harry said: ‘Eddie, isn’t she the sweetest little thing you ever saw?” “‘Yes, with one exception, undoubtedly,’ I replied, casting a side glance at Lottie. She understood my meaning, and blushed crimson as she turned her face away. “‘Of course you think Lottie is the prettiest, and I sha’n’t quarrel with you about that.’