"Juke wouldn't object; he'd be glad. Oh, mother——!"
The nurse came up, and said she thought he had talked enough. I thought so too. His thin cheek was flushed, and his lip trembled; he was inclined to excite himself, and had not strength to spare for that just yet. I gave him his nourishment, turned his pillow, and whispered to him that, if he would sleep for a few hours, then he should have his wish.
"Honour bright?" he whispered back.
"Don't insult me," I retorted. "When did you ever know me to break a promise?"
"To-day, mother?"
"To-day—if Dr. Juke approves. Of course we must have doctor's express permission."
"All right. Give me a squirt of morphia, nurse."
"No, Master Harry. No more morphia, my dear—except maybe a time or two at night, when you can't do without it."
"I can't do without it now," he said. "I've got to sleep before I can see her, and I can't sleep, of myself, until I do see her."
"There," I exclaimed, flinging out a hand. "What did I say? I knew what the effect would be."