“Bravo!” cried the doctor. “Here, I’ll give ’em to you. Humph! No; only got one. Stop a minute; I’ll give you a needle out of my case instead. Will that do?”
“Look here, doctor,” cried Denham; “I can’t stand chaff now.”
“Chaff, my dear boy? I’m in earnest. That’s right; go at him. Have a really good fight. It will do you good.”
“Bah!” cried Denham, as he saw me laughing. “Here, come along up to the wall, Val. I don’t want to fall out with the doctor any more.”
“That you don’t,” said that gentleman, offering his hand. “There, good-morning, patients. I know. But cheer up. I like that bit of spirit Denham showed just now. It was a splendid sign. You’ll eat the grill when it comes?”
He did not wait for an answer, but bustled away, Denham looking after him till he was out of hearing.
“I wish I hadn’t been so snappish with him,” he said rather remorsefully. “He has done a lot for us.”
“Heaps,” I said.
“And we must seem very ungrateful.”
“He knows how fretful weak people can be,” I said. “Come, let’s get up into the sunshine.”