“My first sergeant. Good man,—no better! Do your best for him.”
“It’s a strong bond, isn’t it?”
Stacey nodded. “Oughtn’t he to have a nurse?”
“It would be a great deal better. He’d have more of a chance.”
“Then send one around, will you please? At my expense, of course.”
“All right,” said the doctor, shook hands with Stacey, and departed.
The conversation had taken place in the hallway outside the door. When Stacey reëntered the sick room Mrs. Burnham gazed at him wistfully.
“It’s all right,” he said. “Jim’s got a good chance. The doctor’s going to send a nurse.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she opened her mouth as though to speak, but closed it again, with only a strangled: “Thanks,” and turned her head away. After a time she got up.
“I’ll go down and cook some dinner,” she said. “You’ll excuse me, sir, if it isn’t much, won’t you? I haven’t had time to—”