For a moment the orderly almost succumbed to an impulse to walk off and leave the patient to shift for himself. It was what he deserved if he was going to act that way. Nonetheless, he remained. Consequently, Marc's first vision, upon returning to consciousness, was of a pale, fretful face with white eyelashes and thin lips. He had expected something better.
"Who are you?" he asked weakly. "Are you the doctor?"
The orderly shook his head sullenly. "I'm the orderly. The doctor's waiting."
"They mustn't operate," Marc murmured. "I'll die...." He stopped as a pert face suddenly blurred into view just behind that of the orderly. A slender hand brushed back a wayward lock of red hair. Toffee smiled and winked.
Marc moaned. "Oh, so it's you, is it?" he sighed. "What are you so happy about? I feel awful."
"I'm not happy, sir," the orderly said, mystified. "I'm not happy at all. In fact, if you want the truth...." He paused, and the apprehensive expression of one who detects an unseen presence behind him overtook his face. Very slowly, he turned around.
It would be difficult to say what the orderly expected to find behind him: a fanged reptile might have made a good guess, a slavering fiend another. It is certain, however, judging from his reaction, that on the list of things he did not expect to find, a scantily clad redhead was number one. Toffee, her legs crossed to perfection, the cylinder-like gadget under her arm, sat jauntily on the edge of the cart, smiling a bright greeting. The young man leaped backwards and froze in a transfix of amazement.
"Auk!" he exclaimed.
Toffee turned to Marc. "Is he doing a bird imitation?" she asked. "Should I applaud?"