"Not a scratch," said Joel promptly. "I want to see Father Fisher about something. Sometime you shall know, Mamsie." He gave her hand a sudden pressure, then let it go.
"Perhaps you would better step out, my dear," said the little doctor, nodding to his wife. So Mrs. Fisher, smothering a sigh, went out reluctantly.
"All out?" asked Joel, trying to raise his head to see for himself.
"Every soul," said Dr. Fisher.
"Well, see here, will you," said Joel, pointing to the table, the schoolbooks scattered as he had left them, "pack those things all away in the closet on the shelf, you know, and put the rubbish on the floor there, back on the table?"
Dr. Fisher could not for his life, refrain from asking curiously, as he did as requested, "Been having a pull at the books, eh, Joe?"
"Um—um—maybe," said Joel, twisting uneasily. "Well, now, come here, please, Father Fisher."
The little man turned away from the table, with its sprawling array of delightful things, to stand by the bedside.
"You must get me well as soon as you can," said Joel confidentially.
"All right; I understand," Dr. Fisher nodded professionally.