“Didn’t seem like it,” said Pen, smiling cheerily. “You lifted it up.”
“Yes, I know; but it fell back again. And what’s the matter with my voice?”
“Nothing.”
“Yes, there is,” cried the boy peevishly. “It’s all gone squeaky again, like it was before it changed and turned gruff. I say, Gray, am I going to be very bad, and never get well again?”
“Not you! What nonsense!”
“But I am so weak.”
“Well, you have seen plenty of our poor fellows in hospital, haven’t you?”
“Yes, some of them,” said the boy feebly.
“Well, weren’t they weak?”
“Yes, I forgot all that; but I wasn’t so bad as this yesterday. It was yesterday, wasn’t it?”