CHAPTER XXIX
“YOU LOVE ANOTHER MAN, JEAN”
IT WAS two weeks later that Jean, paying her daily visit to the parish house, found Joe sitting up in bed. The nurse was to leave the next day, and Joe was impatient to be about again. The room had taken on a brighter air from Joe’s convalescence. A light had been so arranged by his bed that he could read and he had gorged himself with sporting supplements which Paddock had collected for him. Life had begun to interest Joe again. The philosophers of the diamond were already speculating as to the disposition of players, great and small; strategy boards were in session wherever “fiends” congregated, planning the campaigns of the approaching season. Pittsburg’s chances of winning the pennant were, even in December, a burning issue among men of apparent sanity.
Jean drew off her coat and sat down near him. She had brought three carnations and gave them into his hand to hold while she found a glass for them.
“They’re nice flowers. Thank you, Jean.”
She moved about the tidy room, doing useless and unnecessary things to satisfy her inner sense of duty. He did not know that her heart was beating fast or that her hands trembled. She was almost as white as he when she sat down beside him. There were many questions that he wished to ask her, but he was not sure to what new ground of relationship his recovery had brought them.
“I’ve given everybody a lot of trouble. Kind o’ tough turnin’ Father Jim out of his own bed. He’s the real stuff, all right. I guess I’ll be some time squarin’ this. He says”—he hesitated a moment and the smile died away from his good-humoured mouth—“he—Father Jim says my boss was out here.”
“Yes,” Jean replied. “Mr. Craighill came out here when you were sick and sat right there beside you. He was very kind and has had things sent out—many nice things to eat. The nurse has been giving them to you; she didn’t know where they came from, probably.”
“How long ago did he come?” asked Joe, the apprehension showing in his face, and she understood.
“That was when you were first sick. There was a chance that you might never get well and you were delirious and kept talking about him and calling for him. So Father Paddock telephoned him to come.”
“Where is he now?” Joe asked presently; and Jean met his eyes and answered: