“Well, I can’t help it, old fellow,” said Alison. “I was thinking something of the kind. You see a regular old country doctor—”
“Has not half the experience of a young man in a large hospital,” said Neil, interrupting him and speaking now in a quite confident manner. “We have had many such cases as this, and I have helped to treat them.”
“Yes, but—”
“Pray try and have a little confidence in me, old fellow. I am sure you do not mean it, but you are making my task much harder.”
“Oh, I don’t want to do that, but you see I can’t help looking at you as my brother.”
“Never cease to, pray. Now go and lie down for a few hours. Yes,” he continued, as Alison hesitated, “I wish it. I desire it. I will call you about four.”
“Oh, very well, if I must, I must,” said Alison rather sulkily. Then, as if ashamed of the tone he had taken, “All right. Be sure and call me then.” He crossed to the bed again, stood looking down at the sleeping face, and returned.
“I say,” he whispered, “what a change it seems! Only this morning talking to us as he did, and now helpless like that.”
“Yes; it is terrible how prostrate an accident renders a man.”
“Did—did he say anything to you about—about marriage?”