"Oh, please—Mrs. Grey—Rob, I can't turn you and Wythie out of your room, you know!" remonstrated Bruce distressed at the thought.
"That's all right, Bruce," cried Rob. "I'd do more than give my room to one who tried to save Cousin Peaceful, even if he were not my chum."
She laughed as she spoke, but the laugh was tremulous, and Bruce and Dr. Fairbairn looked after her and then looked at each other with eyes so full of meaning that in that glance they exchanged confidences.
"You will go back to college on Monday, boys, and tell the heads what has happened, and get permission to take notes of the lectures for me, won't you?" said Bruce after a moment's silence.
"Aren't you together in lectures?" asked the doctor.
"I'm taking the scientific, but Bas and Bart take the belles lettres course," said Bruce. "I shall be able to go back in a few days?"
"If you don't catch cold, and can go back with one of the boys to attend to you. You can't use those arms under ten days," answered the doctor. "It seems to me at your age I should not have been so impatient of coddling in the little grey house, by the three nicest and prettiest girls between Maine and California."
"It would be a hero, doctor, that could turn from it, if it did not postpone greater happiness," said Bruce. "I want to graduate."
"Oh, you want to graduate! And you are in a tremendous hurry to read medicine with me—I see!" said the doctor. "I have always been a meek and humble man, my boy, but you will make me conceited of my charms."
The kind old doctor, whose sixty years made his rest at night important after a busy day, helped Basil and Bartlemy get Bruce to bed, and drove away only when morning's nearness made going to bed an absurdity. Basil stayed with Bruce, and Bartlemy decided to nap on the broad old "nurse" for the few remaining hours of darkness.