“I don’t want you to forget. I want you to remember. And—I am going to Albuquerque. I start to-night. I’ve thought the details out, already. You are going with me, and on the same train with the young doctor, that interne, who has been so faithful and who needs a vacation almost as badly as you do. The trip will be glorious. We’ll surprise them all. Our interests are mutual. I understand all the red-tapeism of settling the claims to this discovery. What do you say?”
She was a woman growing old in her beneficent but toilsome life. The thought of seeing that distant family to which her heart so often turned was tempting. Besides, when this present patient left her care, it would be time for her vacation. She was resourceful, and deliberated but a moment.
“Yes. We’ll go. All of us.”
“That’s good of you. Thus, under the care of my doctor and my nurse, I can make the trip in safety, even though I’ve not yet received my hospital discharge. Well, if we’re going, as my little Carlota would say—‘Let’s!’”
CHAPTER XXXII
IN MY LADY’S CHAMBER
“Patterson! Patterson!! Pat-ter—son!!!”
The cane in the old lady’s hand came down with a thump. It signified: “Attention!”
For a moment or more there was no response to the summons. Then the irate owner of the cane bounced out of her chair and rushed about the room, in a half-frantic manner. She picked up one article only to toss it aside and seize another; but all the time, she tightly clutched the newspaper she held. In her excitement she had once half-folded the paper and had then drawn her thin fingers down its folds as if to make it into a staff or mammoth taper.
Presently, the door opened and a stout woman entered this richly furnished bedchamber, whereupon the old lady rushed toward her and fairly flourished the paper in the newcomer’s face, who was not a whit disturbed by the onslaught and calmly advised:
“There, Mrs. Sinclair, that will do. I wouldn’t go for to put myself in a rage if I was you. You’d far better sit down and take your drops.”