“Coffee-pot, honey—it was coffee-pot.—Oh, for days and days.”
“Did he get quite well again?”
“Oh yes, honey, and laughs now at his mad notion, for he ’members all about it.”
“Tell me some more.”
“Well, there was a lady patient of my own who would have it her legs was made of glass, and she kept them propped up against the wall behind the bed and wouldn’t let anybody come near for fear of breaking of ’em.”
“Was her head right on other things?”
“As right as yours or mine.”
“And she got over it?”
“Yes, when she got well.”
“Nurse, tell me—When a person is mad upon one subject, it is no sign that his mind is unsound, is it?”