Anne Sutton said, "How do you know he won't drink it if you don't even try? Hurry up and take it to him. Or, Nathan Fawcett, you take it!"
"I'll do it," Nathan Fawcett said.
He voluntarily took on the task.
Anne Sutton had been working hard, too.
While Nathan Fawcett was taking the soup up, she went upstairs to shower.
Nathan Fawcett carried the soup into Master Linden's room. "Grandfather."
The old man was sitting in a chair, still awake.
He clearly didn't want to sleep.
Nathan Fawcett had been a patient before himself.
So he understood the mindset of someone who was ill all too well.
Hearing Nathan Fawcett's voice, Master Linden opened his eyes. "When did you get back?"
"I've been back for a little while," Nathan Fawcett said. "Uncle Shepherd told me you hadn't eaten, so I brought you a bowl of soup."
Master Linden said, "I don't have much of an appetite today."
He had gone out to see a friend, and now he just felt a little tired.
