Dani went straight to bed when they reached the town. He was taken to a large room full of lame children like himself, with a tired-looking nurse in charge. He took one look at them and decided they needed cheering up, so he offered to do kangaroo hops on his bear crutches all down the ward. It was a great success, and within an hour Dani was friends with everybody. The white kitten was given a basket in the kitchen and was allowed in during visiting time.
Annette’s arrival was not quite so happy. She was welcomed kindly by Madame Givet, who was young and pretty and jolly, and taken to her room at the top of the house. When she was left alone, she ran across to the window and looked out to see houses and slushy snow in the streets and low grey skies. She gazed out for a moment and then flung herself on the bed and wept bitterly for her home.
Here Madame Givet found her half an hour later when she came up to see what had happened to her. She said nothing but slipped away and returned with baby Claire in her arms, and laid her down on the bed beside Annette. It was the best thing she could have done. Five minutes later Annette was sitting up smiling, with baby Claire chuckling and giggling on her lap, and in another minute Annette was chuckling back.
She was happy and busy at Monsieur Givet’s house. In the mornings she helped Madame and looked after the children, in the afternoons she sat with Dani, and in the evenings she did her lessons. The children were not always good with her, and often, to begin with, Madame Givet would have to be sent for to keep the peace. Although she sometimes felt cross and impatient with them, she tried hard to remember what Grandmother had said. Gradually the love of Jesus in her began to make her patient and kind and unselfish, and she found that she could speak gently and keep her temper.
Dani was in the hospital a week before he had his operation. He went off to the operating room feeling quite excited. But when he woke up hours later, he was very upset to find that his bed had been tipped up and there were large iron weights on the end of his leg, which hurt dreadfully. He felt sick and hot, and screamed for Annette.
All that week Dani lay on his back, with the weights hanging on his leg, feeling feverish and miserable. Annette came every day and read to him and told him stories and tried to make him forget how badly his leg was hurting him. But it was a miserable week. Dull clouds hung low over the grey waters of the lake, and Dani tossed and fretted and tried to be brave but couldn’t manage it.
In those long days there was just one thing that comforted Dani. On the wall opposite him was a picture with some writing under it that Dani couldn’t read. When he was tired of the pain, and tired of stories, and tired of the grey lake and the other children, he looked at his picture, because he never got tired of it.
It was a picture of the Lord Jesus sitting in a field of flowers, and the children of the world were standing around him, looking up into his face. On the grass at his feet sat a black boy, and on his knee was an Indian child. His arms were around a little girl in a blue dress, and the children of China and the South Seas were nestling up to him.
It was about a week after the operation when Dani and Annette first talked properly about that picture. The lights were on, and most of the children were asleep, but Annette still sat beside Dani. She had stayed late the past few nights because he was so restless without her.
Now he lay with his arms flung around his head on his pillow. His eyes were very bright. He was very, very tired and wanted badly to go to sleep, but the pain in his leg kept him awake. So he rolled his head around to look at the picture with the writing underneath.
“What does it say, ’Nette?” asked Dani suddenly.
“It says, ‘Let the little children come to me,’” replied Annette, who was looking tired, too.
“I know that story,” went on Dani, in a tired little voice; “Grandmother told it to me. Are those the children in the Bible?”
“No,” said Annette, “they’re not the children from the Bible story, Dani. They are other children from all over the world—India and Africa, and I think the little girl in the blue dress is probably from Switzerland.”
“Why?” asked Dani.
“I suppose to show that all children can come to Jesus, and not just the ones in the Bible.”
“How?” asked Dani.
“I don’t know quite how to explain. You just say you want to come, Dani, and then you’re there. I suppose Jesus sort of picks you up in His arms, like the children in the Bible, even though you can’t see Him.”
“Oh,” said Dani, “I see. Annette, my leg hurts so badly. I wish I could go to sleep.”
He began to cry fretfully and throw his arms about. Annette shook up the pillows and gave him a drink, and he sank back with a tired sigh.
“Sing to me,” he commanded, and Annette sang very softly because she was shy of the nurse hearing.
As she sang, Dani closed his eyes.
In the few seconds before he fell asleep, Dani thought he saw the picture again, but instead of the Indian child sitting on Jesus’s lap, he recognized himself, with his bear crutches lying in the grass at his feet.
“It’s me,” said Dani to himself, and he fell fast asleep, full of joy.
While Dani lay sleeping, Monsieur Givet came and lifted one of the weights off his leg, and his fever left him. When he woke up he thought he must somehow have gotten into a new world, and he lay quite still thinking about it for a long time. He felt cool and comfortable, and his leg had stopped hurting. The big glass doors of the ward had been flung open, and through them Dani could see, for the first time, sparkling blue water, misty blue mountains on the other side of the lake, and blue sky.
“I’m going to get well,” said Dani to himself.
The door opened, and Annette clattered up the ward, warm and rosy from the wind. She usually popped across after breakfast just to see how he was.
“Isn’t it a lovely day, Dani?” she cried. “Look at the lake and the mountains on the other side, and the little ships.”
Dani turned his face seriously toward her.
“Annette, where are my bear crutches?”
“Here, Dani, behind your locker. Why?”
“Well, you know that poor little boy in the corner? He might like them. Give them to him.”
“Why, Dani? You like them so much yourself.”
“I know. But I shan’t want them ever anymore. I’m going to get better and run about in ordinary boots.”
And he was quite right. He never did want them anymore. He became perfectly well.