Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 77: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CHAPTER VIII ‘POT AUX ROSES ”’ _ Tue first thing Dare knew, somebody was rubbing her hands and feet, and eager voices were about her. One said, Drink it, honey,” and she swallowed something hot. When she opened her eyes she saw “White Kitty,” grand- mother’s big cat, lying on the rug. Then a dear voice was close by: — “She’s all right now. Precious child!” With a very flute-note of joy, “Oh-h-h,” Dare raised herself a bit, and looked straight into grandmother’s eyes. Mrs. Anderson looked pale and thin, but bright-eyed, happy, and absolute. And her smile — how it thrilled the child! “Don’t try to talk yet, babe,” she said tenderly. “ Dil- sey s gding to make us some tea, and then we'll talk.” So she lay there on the old white horsehair sofa, and looked about the pleasant room — known in household parlance as “Cousin Elinor’s room.” She did n’t wish to ask questions, yet. Io be where she was, sufficed. By and by here came Dilsey with the tea, little ““Maryland bis- cuits,’ and ginger preserves. Dare ate and drank. When Mrs. Anderson had pushed away her cup, — “Now, grandmother!” “My dear — I’ve had smallpox.” “Grandmother!” turning white. Mrs. Anderson looked at her anxiously. “Tt is true. You had a lonely time while I was ill; and a good deal to bear. But you will understand everything now.” “Oh, dearest madam, — were you very ill?” “T was at death’s door. I owe my life, under God, to Dr. Pratt and Dilsey.”’ hak CORNICLMOO® ‘S (C(©) im