“Fall out of bed?” he inquired.
“No, out of heaven,” I snapped. He came in and shut the door and showed anxiety.
“See here, son, you seem to have a turn for the worse all of a sudden. You’ve been gaining fine. But your eyes look crazy to-day. And what you just said—”
Say, I came nigh bawling out Dodovah Vose, right then! Nobody seemed to know anything about my case except Kama Holstrom—and she knew too blamed much! I rolled myself out of bed and stood on my feet.
“My Lawd!” gasped my old friend, “you mustn’t do that. It’s against her orders. You’re sartain out of your head!”
“Don’t you worry one mite about my knob,” I shouted, cracking my scarred knuckles against it—and the pain in the knuckles made me all the uglier. “I’m not going to be nursed and fussed over any longer. I have been nursed too much already. They’re even nursing my own private business—and making it sicker all the time. From now on I’m going to tend to my own affairs. Mr. Vose, help me get these bandages off my feet!”
He stood back and flapped his hands and protested. I knew he felt that I had become a lunatic, and so I convinced him by walking up and giving him a good, sane stare.
“Do you think I’m going to stay in bed the rest of my life—a man who has so much to live for as I have?”
“That’s right—a man who is wuth—”
At last somebody was going to post me on my financial status—satisfy my wild eagerness to find out! And I stopped him.