"Do not try to lift your head," she said. "I will do that for you."
She did it with skill and laid him back again with a gay laugh.
"There," she said. "There is one thing, and one only, that they teach in covents."
As she spoke she turned to write on a sheet of paper the exact hour and minute at which he recovered consciousness. For her knowledge was fresh enough in her mind to be half mechanical in its result.
"Will that drug make me sleep?" asked Marcos, alertly.
"Yes."
"How soon?"
"That depends upon how stale the little apothecary's stock-in-trade may be," answered Juanita. "Probably a quarter of an hour. He is a queer little man and unwashed. But he set your collar-bone like an angel. You have to do nothing but keep quiet. I fancy you will have to be content with a quiet seat in the background for some weeks, amigo mio."
She busied herself as she spoke, with some duties of a sick-nurse which had been postponed during his unconsciousness.
"It is nearly six o'clock," she said, without appearing to look in his direction. "So you need not try to peep round the corner at the clock. Please do not manage things, Marcos. It is I who am manager of this affair. You and Uncle Ramon think that I am a child. I am not. I have grown up--in a night, like a mushroom, and Uncle Ramon has been sent to bed."