Wilbur lay tossing restlessly on his pillow . He was thin to emaciation , but his cheeks were crimson and his eyes burning bright . Miss Cynthia stooped and took the hot , dry hands in hers . `` Wilbur , '' she sobbed , `` do n't you know me -- Aunt Cynthia ? '' `` You are not my Aunt Cynthia , '' said Wilbur . `` Daddy said Aunt Cynthia was good and kind -- you are a cross , bad woman . I want Daddy . Why does n't he come ? Why does n't he come to little Wilbur ? '' Miss Cynthia got up and faced the doctor . `` He 's got to get better , '' she said stubbornly . `` Spare no expense or trouble . If he dies , I will be a murderess . He must live and give me a chance to make it up for him . '' And he did live ; but for a long time it was a hard fight , and there were days when it seemed that death must win . Miss Cynthia got so thin and wan that even Mrs. John Joe pitied her . The earth seemed to Miss Cynthia to laugh out in prodigal joyousness on the afternoon she drove home when Wilbur had been pronounced out of danger . How tranquil the hills looked , with warm October sunshine sleeping on their sides and faint blue hazes on their brows ! How gallantly the maples flaunted their crimson flags ! How kind and friendly was every face she met !
Afterwards , Miss Cynthia said she began XXXXX live that day .
If days emaciation for in joyousness on that to with