“I didn’t give you credit for such monkey-tricks; but I’ve done with you now. You’ve been imposing upon me—you’re shamming—malingering, so as to keep out of going on duty again. You might have injured me for life.”
“Don’t bully the poor fellow, Doctor,” cried the Major, wiping his eyes, and picking up one piece of his glass which he had dropped. “I don’t think he’s shamming, he’s off his head. Look how his eyes roll. Poor lad! Give him a dose of something to quiet him, for he’s as mad as a March hare.”
“Mad as a March hare!” snarled the Doctor, rubbing himself. “I told you it’s all a trick.”
“I—I—I—d-d-don’t care what it is,” stammered the Major; “but I wouldn’t have missed it for a hundred eyeglasses. Ho, ho, ho! Ho, ho, ho! I can’t stop myself. I never laughed so much in my life.—Ha!” he added as he sank into a chair and wiped his eyes; “I feel better now.”
“Better!” cried the Doctor. “You may as well let me give you something, or you’ll be disgracing yourself before the men.”
That was enough. The Major sprang to his feet, to look threateningly at the Doctor.
“Disgrace myself, sir?” he cried furiously.
“Bah!” cried the Doctor, and he bounced out of the room, and, forgetting his patients in the ward near, banged the door.
“There, you’ve done it now, Bracy!” cried the Major, calming down, and going up to the bedside. “No more of those games, sir, or I shall hit out too. What’s the matter with you? Are you shamming, or are you off your head?”
“Beg pardon, sir,” said Gedge, entering the room; “the Doctor’s sent me to keep watch by Mr Bracy, sir; and he has given me orders that no one is to be near him till he has decided what is to be done.”