“That made me mad. ‘You can't put me out,’ I told him. ‘I’ve got more right in here than you. If you don’t stop yapping around my heels I will pull you out of that bed and get in it myself.’
“He got crazy then and started to climb out of the bed but Miss Knight came in and shoved him down on his pillow. ‘Take that big cheese out of here before I break his other leg,’ he bawled.
“She began to laugh fit to kill herself and said, ‘Joe, what kind of gentle sympathy do you give the weak and injured which makes them wish to rise up and fight?’–when she rolled me away from that wild man.
“Your letter made me homesick for the north country. I have fished all over that pond. You wouldn’t catch hornpouts if you fished in the right place and used the proper kind of bait. I used to go to the north end of the pond by the lily pads. Bait your hook with a live minnow and drop it in there about sundown. The fun will come suddenly. Mr. Pickerel strikes with the speed of an express train. Try it. When I come up we will go fishing.
“A tray is coming my way so I must stop. I think of you every day and, believe me, just as soon as this hospital turns me loose I am going to go where I can see and talk to the nicest girl in all the world.
“Good bye, Miss Hornpout catcher.
“Affectionately,
“Joe.”
Virginia’s face was aglow with happiness as she finished reading and turned to Helen. “He is the nicest man. Doesn’t he write interesting letters to me?” she murmured softly.
The sentimental Helen gazed into the distance, lost in dreams conjured by this epistle. “Yes, he does,” she agreed. “You must adore him, dear.”
Virginia’s face crimsoned at this bold remark. “We are only friends,” she protested.