“Right away, indade!” cried Mary, with an indignant snort. “Next week, mebbe, if the doctor—”
“Then I guess I’ll have to get up and hunt him,” said Allan, and made a movement as though to rise.
“Lay still; lay still,” said Mary hastily, “an’ I’ll send fer him,” but Allan, smiling to himself, could hear her grumbling all the way down the stairs.
Stanley lost no time in answering the summons, though Mrs. Welsh had tried to persuade him to refuse to come, or, at least, to postpone his visit until the next day.
“The lad’s in no shape to see you,” she said, over the telephone, “but I had t’ promise t’ tell you, or he’d ’a’ been climbin’ out o’ bed, an’ him scarce able t’ stand.”
“I’ve got to come then, ma’am,” said Stanley politely, but with great positiveness. “I’ve got to obey my superior officer. Besides, I’ve pretty near got to see him, anyway. I was goin’ to come around in the mornin’ myself.”
“Well, come on then, an’ bad cess to ye!” said Mary, and five minutes later he was at the door. “Now don’t you go to excitin’ the lad,” she added, before she let him in.
“I won’t, ma’am,” Stanley promised meekly. “I’ll be a reg’lar soothin’ syrup. It’ll do him good to see me—it really will.”
“Huh!” grunted Mary, “that’s more ’n it does me!”
But she let him in reluctantly, and led him upstairs to Allan’s bedroom.