“No, no. No use gettin' the doctor. I'll be all right by and by. It's one of my attacks. I have 'em every once in a while. Just let me alone, and let me lay here without bein' disturbed; then I'll get better, I guess.”
“But it's so sudden!”
“I know. They always come on that way. Now run along, like a good feller, and leave me to my suff'rin's. O-oh, dear!”
Much troubled, Brown turned to the door. As he was going out he happened to look back. The dresser stood against the wall beyond the bed, and in its mirror he caught a glimpse of the face of the sick man. On that face, which should have been distorted with agony, was a broad grin.
Brown found the little Stover man waiting for him in the kitchen.
“Be you ready?” he asked.
“Ready?” repeated Brown, absently. “Ready for what?”
“Why, to show us round the lights. Sophi, she ain't never seen one afore. Atkins said that, bein' as he wasn't able to leave his bed, you'd show us around.”
“He did, hey?”
“Yes. He said you'd be glad to.”