“What are you talking about?” said Wilfred more strongly. “Of course I know you. Where am I?” And as full consciousness came back to him, “What am I doing, anyway? Taking a bath?”
“No, no, Wilfred; you see I am bathing your head. You fainted a little, and——”
“Fainted!” exclaimed Wilfred in deep disgust. “I fainted!” He made a feeble attempt to rise, but sank back weakly. “Yes, of course, I was in a fight with the Yankees and got wounded somewhere.”
He stopped, puzzled, staring strangely, almost afraid, at Caroline.
“What is it?” asked the girl.
“See here,” he began seriously; “I will tell you one thing right now. I am not going to load you up with a cripple, not much.”
His resignation was wonderful.
“Cripple!” exclaimed Caroline, bewildered.
“I reckon I’ve got an arm knocked off, haven’t I?”
“No, you haven’t, Wilfred; they are both on all right.”