Shortly after Peter Pegg was watching his patient crumbling some of the bread-cake and dipping pieces in a fresh supply of water and beginning to eat.
Chapter Twenty One.
Plans.
“Now, Mister Archie, sir, you was precious cross with me for bothering you into eating that little bit; but ain’tcher ever so much better now?”
“Oh yes, Pete. That horrible feeling of faintness is going off; but my head—”
“Oh, you let your head alone, sir. That’ll come right if only you keep on eating directly you begin to feel faint, if it is ever so little a bit.”
“You must make me, then, Pete. Never mind my turning disagreeable. It’s because I am not myself.”
“All right, sir. Now you just tell me what we are to do.”