“Yes, rather. I wanted to see you awfully. I wondered if you would come. I thought perhaps you would when you knew. Frank, am I going to die?”
Frank pulled the chair a little closer, and bent over him.
“No,” he said. “You’re going to do nothing of the sort. We can’t get on without you possibly, so you’ve got to get well. See?”
The doctor came close to Frank and whispered to him.
“Tell him he must go to sleep,” he said, and stepped back again out of sight.
“And to get well,” continued Frank, “you’ve got to go to sleep and bring your strength back. David, don’t you remember our two beds at the end of dormitory? Well, think yourself back in yours with me in the one next you, and imagine it’s time to go to sleep. It’s quite easy you know. Imagine it’s that jolly evening after our house-match last year, when you were so tired you fell asleep without undressing.”
“Yes, I remember,” said David.
He was silent a little, but his eyes were still wide.
“I say, would it bore you awfully to hold my hand,” he said. “You’re so strong and fit and quiet. I might get some. I don’t know. Am I talking rot?”
“No, not a bit. There!”