“The tyrant of the sickroom, old boy. Never mind; she’s a capital nurse, and sympathetic under her hard shell. But I say, old fellow, can you imagine it to be possible that Gee fell in love with that female dragon?”
“No,” said Bracy, smiling. “It seems impossible. One can’t understand these things. I don’t mind her so much now, but I do wish she wouldn’t be quite so hard on poor Gedge.”
“Poor lad; no. What’s that, though?—the click of crockery. Only fancy the willow-pattern plate out here in the hills!”
“Not so far out of place,” said Bracy, smiling. “Chinese pattern, and we are very near to China.”
“Good-bye, old man,” said Roberts hastily. “Here she comes. Never mind about shaking hands yet. Do it in a look. Good-bye. See you to-morrow—if I don’t get knocked over first,” he added to himself; and, bonding low, as there was a short, hard cough outside, evidently meant for a signal to him to depart, he laid one hand upon Bracy’s shoulder, the other on his brow, and gave him a very brotherly look and smile.
“You’ll be all right soon, my helpless old cockalorum,” he cried cheerily. “There, pitch into your corn well, and grow strong. Ta, ta!”
He turned quickly to cross the room, and then made a bound a yard away in his astonishment, for he received a tremendous blow across the loins, which made him turn sharply to gaze in wonder at his helpless friend, who was looking at him wildly.
“What the dickens did you do that for?” he asked.
“I beg pardon, sir. I thought you said—”
“Yes, yes, all right, Mrs Gee, I’m off,” he cried; and he hurried away and out into the great court, where he passed one hand behind him to begin softly rubbing his spine.