The doctor had not left the ranch until the evening before this day when Frances stole up the stair again to peer into the room to see how her patient was.
“Oh, I’m awake!” cried Pratt, cheerfully. “You don’t expect me to sleep all the time, do you, Frances?”
“Sleep is good for you,” declared the girl of the ranges, with a sober smile. “The doctor says you are to keep very quiet.”
“Goodness! I might as well be buried and so save my board,” grumbled Pratt. “When is he going to let me get up out of this?”
“Not for a long, long time yet,” said Frances, seriously.
“What? Why, I could get up now—”
“With those shingles plastered to your shoulder?” asked the girl, smiling again, but somewhat roguishly.
“Oh–well–have those boards actually got to stay on?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“How long?”