“With that heart!” his voice carried both reprimand and admiration, “What circus?”
“Ringling Brothers.”
“You did!”
The heart case two beds up was sitting boldly erect. “You don’t say? An old trouper! Well, I’ll be doggone! Ringling Brothers, too! Top-notcher ain’t you, kid? Is Fred Bradna still ringmaster? How far out did you get last year? Playing Texas this spring? Is Old Bill, the bull elephant, you know ... still alive...?”
Dr. Cub Sterling laughed spontaneously and every woman in the ward smiled.
“You’ll have to wait till she’s better. And then she’ll remember everything.”
His voice was crisp and final. The other doctors had passed on and were discussing Mrs. Witherspoon’s condition. Cub Sterling joined them, but he turned suddenly and smiled into the limpid, waiting eyes of Lil Parkins.
“Go to sleep!”
His lips formed the words noiselessly, and her tension snapped and her eyes began to close, listlessly.
Cub started toward Room Two. Mattus’ voice halted his steps. Mattus said: