"Of course I meant it, old man," he spoke soothingly. "Only you must give us time."
"I'll wait any time, if I know it's all right," Dick muttered. A shade of weariness passed over his face. Then he looked at his mother, and put out a hand to her.
"Been a beast again," he said apologetically. "Didn't mean to, mummie—only he sort of surprised me."
She dropped a butterfly kiss on his brow.
"Here's nurse with your tea," she said, thankful for the diversion. "I wonder how you will like food cooked in a respectable oven again?"
"There's no food anywhere like the food you cook over a camp fire," Dick declared.
"You can't have lost the camp appetite yet," said the nurse warmly. "So don't tell me." She tucked a napkin under his chin with a deft movement. "Please, we would like people to run away—my lion doesn't like to be watched while he's fed!"
"I'm sorry I said it," Dr. Brereton confessed out in the corridor. "One says things hurriedly—anything to soothe a patient. And you know I strongly advised that he should not be told his case was hopeless."
"No, and of course we have not told him so. But I think he looked on any statement from you as coming with special authority. I'm sorry, too; he has never been so excited."
"Poor little chap! I wouldn't have given him false hope for anything."