“She’s killing me with kindness,” burst forth the convalescent obstreperously. “She means well; but, thunder, how bored I am!”
“This is the end of it,” replied Ogden. “We’ll get rid of the nurse. I can stay a few days and give you what assistance you need, and in a very short time you will be an independent citizen and have the run of the house.”
“The run of the house”—scornfully. “Like a tame cat. I suppose you think I’ll be shut in, nights.”
A knock on the door was followed by the entrance of the nurse with a tray whose contents made John Ogden hungry. Hugh regarded it gloomily. The ignominious fact was that his appetite waxed daily.
“Miss Damon, this is my friend, Mr. Ogden, come on from New York to get me out of here.”
The nurse smiled and went on deftly arranging the tray. “He will do that very easily now, Mr. Stanwood. In fact, I don’t think I’m needed any longer, and I’ve had a summons to-day to a very sick woman, and I am hoping Miss Frink will let me go at once. She seemed so unwilling for me to leave.”
“Yes, indeed. Yes, yes,” exclaimed her patient eagerly. “There’s nothing for you to stay for. It’s utter nonsense. Of course, you shall leave. I’ll insist upon it.”
“And I can stay a little while,” said Ogden, “and give Mr. Si—Stanwood any assistance he needs.”
“Miss Frink is out just now, but I think I’ll be packing up my things and be all ready when she comes.”
“By all means,” said Hugh, and Miss Damon vanished into a dressing-room.