Gladstone Burr gasped piteously from the sofa. Mrs. B. was deceived perfectly. The ruse worked like a charm.
“How long must he be kept quiet, Doctor?” asked Mrs. B., as she wrung her hands over Gladstone Burr's danger. She was bending above the invalid at the time, and he was unable to signal his friend to be careful how he prescribed.
“Oh! ahem!” observed “Dr. Adams,” looking at the ceiling, professionally, “about three days! That is right! Perfect rest for three days, and Mr. Burr will be a well man again.”
“Are there directions as to what medicines to give him?” asked Mrs. B., passing her hand gently over Gladstone Burr's heated dome of thought; “any directions about the food, Doctor?”
“He needs no medicine,” observed the wretched Adams, closing his eyes sagaciously, and sucking his cane. “As for food, we must be careful. I should advise nothing but milk. Give him milk, Mrs. Burr, milk.”
After this Frederick Upham Adams drove away. And at the end of three days Gladstone Burr was almost dead.