Jasper gave one hand to his father in passing, but went straight to
Polly's side, and laid his other hand on her shoulder.
"It's all right, Jasper," said Polly, seeing he couldn't speak. "Doctor says my arm is doing beautifully."
"Well, well," said old Mr. King, trying to speak cheerfully, but only succeeding in a nervous effort, "this isn't just the most successful way to give you a surprise party, Jasper, but it's the best we could do. And we had to send you a telegram, for fear you'd see it in the papers. So you thought you'd come on and see for yourself, eh?" as Jasper showed no inclination to talk.
"Yes," said Jasper, still confining himself to monosyllables.
"And that's the sensible thing to do," said Ben, with a grateful look at
Jasper, "than to wait till we are able to move on—Pickering and all."
"Is Pickering Dodge with you?" exclaimed Jasper, quickly.
Polly turned in her chair, and looked into his eyes. "Yes; Pickering came with us expressly to see you, Jasper." Then without waiting for an answer, "He is in the next room; do go and see him."
"Very well," said Jasper, "I'll be back in a moment or two, father," going out.
Pickering Dodge still lay, gazing at the sprawling flowers on the wall, and doing his best not to count them. The door opened suddenly. "Well, well, old fellow." Jasper came up to the bedside with the air of one who had been in the habit of running in every little while. "It's good to see you again, Pick," he added, affectionately, laying his hand, that good right hand, on the nervous one playing with the coverlids.
"Of course you couldn't do what I asked, Jasper; no one could," said
Pickering, rolling over to look at him. "And I was a fool to ask it."