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Em
by
Ben sat on the porch watching for her, a feverish brightness in his sunken eyes.
“Was ‘Rene at church?” he asked eagerly.
“Yes, Ben.”
Em stood behind his chair, looking down at the cords of his poor, wasted neck. Her eyelids burned with hot, unshed tears.
“Did she look nice–did she have anything new?”
“Yes, she had a new parasol. She looked real pretty.” The girl spoke with dull, unfeeling gentleness. Ben tried to turn and look up into her face.
“She’s been wanting it all summer. I told her ‘way long in the spring that I’d get it for her birthday. I wonder if she forgot it? I didn’t have any idea I’d be laid up this way.”
Em stood perfectly still.
“I’ll bet she was surprised, Em,” he went on wistfully; “do you think she’ll come over and say anything about it?”
“She’d better,” said Em, setting her teeth in her bright under lip.
The invalid gave a little, choking cough, and looked out across the valley. A red spot was moving through the stubble toward the house. He put up his hot hand and laid it on Em’s cold fingers.
“Mother tried to fool me about the money,” he said feebly, “but I think I know where she got it. I don’t mean to forget it either, Em. I’ll pay it back just as soon as I get up.”
“Yes, Ben.”
The girl dropped her cheek on his head with a little wailing sob.
“Yes, Ben, I ain’t a bit afraid about my pay.” Then she slipped her hand from under his and went into the house.
The red spot was drawing nearer. Mrs. Wickersham glanced through the open window at her son.
“Benny’s looking brighter than I’ve seen him in a long time,” she thought. “I guess his ride yesterday done him good.”
And in her little room Em sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall through blinding tears.
“I wish I had it all to do over again,” she said. “I’d do it all–even if I knew–for Ben!”