Sally shrugged and went off down the hall. Jean tiptoed over to Timmy’s door. She hesitated and then knocked.
Dr. Benson opened the door and smiled at her. Lines of fatigue had drawn his mouth down at the corners, and his forehead was wrinkled into a frown. But his eyes twinkled.
“Hello, there, beautiful,” he said cheerfully. “Come on in.”
Jean smiled at him gratefully. She remembered how many times she had resented his flip manner. But this was one night when she welcomed it. “I was just passing by,” she said. “I wondered if there was anything you two would like.”
“Nothing except a two-inch steak and a quart of milk and maybe a good western movie,” Dr. Benson said.
Jean laughed. “I can get you some milk,” she said. “If you would settle for—”
“Nothing doing!” Dr. Benson cried. “The whole works, or nothing at all!”
Timmy propped himself up on his elbow. “Yeah, ’n’ I’m gettin’ outta here, too,” he said, almost belligerently. “Ain’t I, Doc?”
“That’s just wonderful, Timmy!” Jean cried.
“It’s up to Dr. Loring, old man,” Dr. Benson said. “Not me.”