Nan looked up.
"How can we give it him?" she questioned. Somehow the importance of
the water had lessened in her mind.
Jeff answered the question himself.
"I don't need it, Bud," he said. Then he added as an afterthought:
"Thanks."
Nan looked up at her father who stood doubtfully by.
"Set it down, Daddy. Then get right along an' look out for the doc,
an' the wagon. Hustle 'em along."
Bud obeyed unquestioningly. He felt that Nan's understanding of the
situation was better than any ideas of his. He set the hat down for
the water to percolate through the soft felt at its leisure. Then he
moved on.
The moment he was out of earshot Jeff's voice broke the silence once
more.
"Nan?"
"Yes, Jeff?"
"Wher's the red willow? How far away?"
"A few yards."
"Can you help me up?" The question came after a long considering
pause. It came with a certain eagerness.
But Nan remonstrated with all her might.
"No, no, Jeff," she cried, in serious alarm. "You mustn't. True you
mustn't. It'll kill you to move now.
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