I went pale. “But if they are infected!” I cried; “and you are bitten——”
“The first thing a nurse should learn,” he bent forward smiling, “is not to alarm her patient.”
“But you don’t understand the danger,” I said despairingly. “Oh, if only men had a little bit of sense!”
“I must do something desperate then? Have the thumb cut off, perhaps?”
I did not answer. I lay back on my pillows with my eyes shut. I had given him the plague, had seen him die and be buried, before he spoke again.
“The chin,” he said, “is not so firm as I had thought. The outlines are savage, but the dimple—— You poor little thing; are you really frightened?”
“I don’t like you,” I said furiously. “But I’d hate to see any one with—with that trouble.”
“Then I’ll confess. I was trying to take your mind off your troubles. The bite is there, but harmless. Those were new ferrets; had never been out.”
I did not speak to him again. I was seething with indignation. He stood for a time looking down at me; then, unexpectedly, he bent over and touched his lips to my bandaged arm.
“Poor arm!” he said. “Poor, brave little arm!” Then he tiptoed out of the room. His very back was sheepish.