“And I shall want to see her. How good you are, Doctor. Does she suffer much?”
“She did at first, and will when she begins to exercise again, but she is fairly comfortable now.”
It was a ride of but a few miles to the hospital, and soon Ellen was following the doctor through a long corridor to the room where Miss Rindy was. A white-gowned nurse met them at the door. “How is the patient?” inquired the doctor.
“Doing very well,” was the reply.
The doctor beckoned to Ellen, who was soon looking down upon the pale face of her cousin. “Well, Ellen,” was the greeting, “this is a pretty how-do-you-do, isn’t it? I could kick myself for a clumsy old fool. No, I couldn’t either, not with one leg out of commission. I want you to get some of my things that I shall need, for goodness knows how long I may have to stick here. Go over there, Sam Rowe, and talk to the nurse; I have things to say to Ellen.”
The doctor nodded understandingly to the nurse and the two went toward the door while Ellen drew up a chair close to the bed. “Now, listen,” began Miss Rindy. “I’m not going to stay in this expensive room. It is all nonsense. I am no better than lots of others in the free ward, and not half so good as some. Look at the way our boys had to endure privations and discomforts in hurry-up hospitals over there. I reckon I can stand what they did. Sam Rowe won’t listen to me, but I want you to impress upon him that I cannot pay for this room and a private nurse. He has got to understand it. You tell him so. Now, take that bit of paper and write down the list of things I want.”
Ellen did as she was bid, glad that she had made no promise of persuading the doctor to move her cousin. She had no more than finished her list than the doctor came over to the bed. “I think we’ve stayed long enough for this time, Ellen,” he said. “I’ll bring her again to-morrow, Rindy. She is going to stay with us, so you needn’t worry a bit about her.”
“Maybe you think I have nothing else to worry about, Sam Rowe. You’ll be wishing me a happy New Year next, I suppose. A nice year I have ahead of me, haven’t I? The best I can expect is that I shall be able to go around on crutches, but I am not going to end my days hobbling. When I get into my death bed I mean to walk there.”
“Good sport!” cried the doctor. “That’s the way to talk. You may have to begin with crutches, but I venture to say you won’t end with them. See you to-morrow, Rindy.”
“Ellen hasn’t told me a word about her visit,” complained Miss Rindy.