“Yes, little Piers.”
“Why don’t you call me Sir Piers? It doesn’t seem respectful to call me little Piers.”
“But I’d rather call you little Piers. I want you to forget the other name.”
“Forget that I am Sir Piers Pelham! What do you mean?”
“It is part of your cure. I hope to have you quite well before long, and when you are quite well and quite strong you shall be Sir Piers Pelham again, and you shall go back to Dick and Barbara and to your mother and Dr. Tarbot.”
“Dr. Tarbot,” said the boy, his face flushing. “I hate him.”
“That is unkind. He is your good doctor.”
“He’s not good, and I hate him. Well, go and send off your telegram to your mother if you must, only it does seem queer that you should have one. What do you want to say to her?”
“I want her to come here on a visit.”
“Oh, I shall like that. It will be fun to see you greeting your mother. Will you kiss her much and will you obey her? Of course, you ought to obey your mother—it’s the fifth commandment. Well, go, nurse, now, and be quick back.”