“Don’t you worry, there will be no tears in my farewell I can tell you. I shall be so delighted to get from under your tyrannical sway that I am afraid my joy will give me a relapse and keep me in your clutches.”
Miss Knight shook her head at the depravity of men. “How’s that for ungratefulness? They bring him to me helpless with pain and I bring him back to health. Now he calls me a tyrant. Is that the way to reward a faithful and devoted nurse?”
“Listen a minute, Knightie,” begged Joe.
Virginia laughed barefacedly.
Miss Knight squelched the motorcyclist with a look, and addressed her remarks to Virginia. “Did you hear that, now? Knightie–what kind of a way is that to address a lady? The minute you utter a kind word near him, he gets gay. He’s the freshest thing I ever had in this ward.” She shook her head with weariness. “I’ve done my part. I have tried to train him.”
Joe attempted to smooth the ruffled feelings of the nurse. “Sister,” he expostulated, “you don’t get me–”
“Say,” snapped Miss Knight, “if you don’t cut out that ‘sister’ habit I’ll get you all right before I am done with you.”
“Help!” groaned Joe. “What kind of a dump is this anyway? They cure my leg but ruin my disposition. No one could ever be the same after two months in this ward.”
“I improve them in mind and body,” Miss Knight boasted.
“You don’t improve a thing,” he retorted. “This place is a mad house. I am kept awake by the voices of patients asking for poison to put them out of their misery.”