Jack turned wearily upon her pillow, and at the mention of “doctor” a deep frown gathered upon her still pale face.
“It really isn’t anything to be alarmed about,” she sighed. “I was simply tired, went out for a bracer in the strong air, and somehow——”
“We know, dear,” soothed Mary. “But with Miss Alton away, of course, Miss Taylor must be extra careful.”
Her voice droned down to a lull, for the patient was dozing off as if from exhaustion. While Mary and Trixy were attending to Jack, another scene was being enacted down the corridor.
In Pat’s room, where she insisted Gloria be taken, a rather noisy operation was being performed. The “rub down” being administered was vigorous to the point of violence.
“Leave me a hoof!” wailed Gloria. She was trying to retrieve “the hoof” Edna was working on.
“Think we ought to roll her?” suggested Blanche who had taken part in the other features of the reviving orgy.
“Just to show our appreciation,” inserted Jean. The last of the pure alcohol was solemnly poured over two refractory feet, the same being pinioned by Patsy, who held a useless basin beneath.
“Oh, now, girls!” begged little Ethel. “No fair! She’s tired and warm as toast. Look at her cheeks!”
They were well worth looking at. As were Gloria’s dark eyes, “shooting stars,” according to a delighted little “freshie,” Naomie, who managed to slip in during the excitement. And Gloria’s head tied up in Pat’s best silk banner, the red one, brother Tom sent from his school, gave the prostrate but by no means quiescent Gloria, a very spectacular appearance, indeed.