Chapter Three.
Convalescent.
The first face I saw when I came to myself was that of my father. He was bending over me and looking very anxious. I think he had been crying.
“Better, Tom?” he said softly, as if afraid of making a noise and frightening me back into unconsciousness—everything seeming to be strangely still around me!
“Oh, I’m all right,” I answered joyfully, much pleased at seeing him. “Why, how did you come here?” and I tried to get up from the sofa on which I discovered that I Was lying. But it was only an attempt, for I fell back again in a heap, feeling pain all over me. It seemed just as if I had been broken into little pieces and somebody was now separating the bits!
“Bress de Lor’, him ’peak again!” I heard Jake ejaculate, and then I noticed his black face behind dad’s, while there was another gentleman there too. The latter now took hold of my hand and felt my pulse, I suppose, although he didn’t ask me to put out my tongue, as he generally did when he came up to Mount Pleasant specially to prescribe for me!
“Hallo, Doctor Martin!” I exclaimed, recognising him. “What’s the matter with me? I can’t rise, or move my legs, or do anything.”
“You confounded young rascal!” he rejoined in his hearty voice, “a nice mess you have got yourself into, alarming us all in this way. What do you mean by galloping down Constitution Hill as if you were after a pack of foxhounds? It’s a mercy you haven’t broken every bone in your body.”