"Kin I look at it?" queried Pete.
She gave the chart to him and he studied it frowningly. "What's this here that looks like a range of mountains ?" he asked.
"Your temperature." And she explained the meaning of the wavering line.
"Gee! Back here I sure was climbin' the high hills! That's a interestin' tally-sheet."
Pete saw a peculiar expression in her gray eyes. It was as though she were searching for something beneath the surface of his superficial humor; for she knew that there was something that he wanted to say—something entirely alien to these chance pleasantries. She all but anticipated his question.
"Would you mind tellin' me somethin'?" he queried abruptly.
"No. If there is anything that I can tell you."
"I was wonderin' who was payin' for this here private room—and reg'lar nurse. I been sizin' up things—and folks like me don't get such fancy trimmin's without payin'."
"Why—it was your—your father."
Pete sat up quickly. "My father! I ain't got no father. I—I reckon somebody got things twisted."