"Are you a hospital nurse?"
"Sorter 'spect I am. That's what I does, anyhow. Have you anything agin it? Don't yer come 'ferin' round with me less yer a doctor, astin' no end o' questions. Air you a new doctor?"
"My name is Hobart Martine," the speaker forced himself to say, expecting fearfully a sign of recognition, for the impression that it was Nichol grew upon him every moment, in spite of apparent proof to the contrary.
"Hump! Hob't Ma'tine. Never yeared on yer. Ef yer want ter chin mo' in the mawnin', I'll be yere."
"Wait a moment, Yan—"
"Yankee Blank, I tole yer."
"Well, here's a dollar for the trouble I'm making you," and Martine's face flushed with shame at the act, so divided was his impression about the man.
Yankee Blank took the money readily, grinned, and said, "Now I'll chin till mawnin' ef yer wants hit."
"I won't keep you long. You remind me of—of—well, of Captain Nichol."
"He must 'a' been a cur'ous chap. Folks all say I'm a cur'ous chap."