"Oh, yes, there is hope, and I am not worse off than hundreds of others. I shall get used to it, no doubt."
Anita could not trust herself to say anything more, but turned the pages of the magazine she had brought and settled herself to read.
Presently young Haynes swung himself over to where the two were. "You don't mind my listening, too, do you, old chappie?"
"Glad to have you," was the reply, and the young man deftly drew up his chair and settled himself to listen. He was a boyish, happy-looking lad, who did not seem in the least to mind the loss of his leg, and who laughed and joked all day. The sprightly tale which Anita had selected found an appreciative critic in Bobbie Haynes, who chuckled over the witty parts, laughed outright at the amusing situations and finally pronounced it rattling good stuff.
"I'd like to have all the boys hear that," he said, so Anita offered him the magazine to pass around and went on her way with a promise to return another day with more reading matter.
As she passed out of the room one of the nurses entered. "Miss Collins," called Bobbie Haynes, "Dix wants to speak to you."
The nurse came up. "Did you want to speak to me?" she asked.
"Dix does," Bobbie told her.
"I wanted to ask," said the other, "the name of the young lady who has been so kind as to give us some music yesterday and to-day."
"Why, that is Mrs. Beltrán's daughter, Miss Anita Beltrán," he was told.