"I'll be very quiet," promised the little Briton, gravely.
"And we've got to get her to sleep. Perhaps—"
The boy's firm mouth quivered for an instant.
"Yes," he said.
The post surgeon let him go into Cary's room alone, and he motioned the boy's mother and Cary's father away from the bed.
The boy went directly to the head of the bed and stood there looking down at Cary. For a long while Cary did not notice him. But he waited.
The stillness of the room grew—broken only by Cary's piteous moans. After awhile she became conscious of the boy's slim figure at her side, and she turned her restless, feverish eyes to him.
Then he stroked her long straight hair timidly.
The moans ceased suddenly.
"It's Johnny," said the boy.