"But you fooled the bird," said the boy. "Close here it answered you."
"And near me it called you," said Mrs. Minturn. "Your notes were quite as
perfect."
Malcolm straightened and seemed reassured.
"Why mother!" he exclaimed. "When did you study _bird_ music? Have you
just come back?"
"I've been away only two weeks, Malcolm," she answered, "and if it hadn't
been for learning the bird notes, I'd have returned sooner."
"But where have you _been?_" cried the boy.
"At home. I reserved my suite!" she answered.
"But home's all torn up, and pounding and sick people, and you hate
pounding and sick people," he reminded her.
"There wasn't so very much noise, Malcolm," she said, "and I've changed
about sickness. You have to suffer yourself to do that. Once you learn how
dreadful pain is, you feel only pity for those who endure it. Every night
when the nurses are resting, I change so no one knows me, and slip into
the rooms of the suffering little children who can't sleep, and try to
comfort them.
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