Explore "The Carved Lions" by Mary Louisa Molesworth on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I don't suppose there was anything really infectious about my illness, though nowadays whenever there is any sort of sore throat people are very much on their guard. Perhaps they were not so cautious long ago. However that may have been, Myra was not banished from my room for very long. I rather think, indeed, that she used to creep in and sit like a little mouse behind the curtains before I was well enough to notice her.
But everything for a time seemed dreamy to me. The first event I can quite clearly recall was my being allowed to sit up for an hour or two, or, more correctly speaking, to _lie_ up, for I was lifted on to the sofa and tucked in almost as if I were still in bed.