“All you have to do is to lie off and take it easy until you get well. I know a useful man when I see him and it won’t pay me to let you go. When I’ve fixed things with the President I’ll make you an offer. Now Stuyvesant’s waiting for me and I understand my daughter is coming to see you.”
He went away and soon afterwards Ida Fuller came in. Dick rather awkwardly got her a chair, for his shade, which was closely pulled down, embarrassed him, but she noticed this, and his clumsiness made a strong appeal. She liked Dick and had some ground for being grateful to him. For half an hour she talked in a cheerful strain and Dick did his best to respond, but she saw what the effort cost and went away in a thoughtful mood.
Ida Fuller had both sympathy and self-confidence, and when things went wrong with her friends seldom felt diffident about trying to put them right. In consequence, she took Jake away from the others, whom her father had asked to dinner that evening.
“What’s the matter with Dick Brandon?” she asked.
“It’s pretty obvious. His trouble began with broken ribs and may end with the loss of his eye; but if you want a list of his symptoms——”
“I don’t,” said Ida. “Does his trouble end with the injury to his eye?”
Jake gave her a sharp glance. “If you insist on knowing, I admit that I have my doubts. But you must remember that Dick has a touch of malaria, which makes one morbid.”
“But this doesn’t account for everything?”
“No,” said Jake, who lighted a cigarette, “I don’t think it does. In fact, as I know your capabilities and begin to see what you’re getting after, there’s not much use in my trying to put you off the track.”
Ida sat down in a canvas chair and pondered for a minute or two.