"Dead certain.  An’ it’ll be miles nicer for her to see you with a bit of colour in your washy old cheeks than lookin’ white from sittin’ all day in her room.  You go an’ find your dad, an’ tell him not to worry about her, an’ give him a hand in the garden.  I’ll be on the listen, an’ I’ll call you the d’reckly minute she wakes."  She watched the little fellow catch his felt hat from its peg and run out with his news.