CHAPTER XV.
A RECOVERY AND A VISIT.
Young Andy McLean was not destined to be gathered to his forefathers yet, however, and before Christmas he was able to sit up in bed and beg his mother fretfully to telephone to Exmoor and ask some of the fellows to come over.
"The doctor says you're not to see any of the boys yet, Andy," replied his mother firmly.
"If I can't see boys, is there anything I can see?" he demanded with extreme irritability.
Mrs. McLean smiled and a little later dispatched a note to Queen's Cottage. That afternoon Nance came shyly into Andy's room and sat down in a low chair beside the white iron hospital bed which had been substituted for the big old mahogany one.
"Your mother says you are lots better, Andy," she said.
Andy gave a happy, sheepish smile and wiggled two fingers weakly, which meant they were to shake hands.
"Mother was afraid for the fellows to come," he said, "on account of my heart. I suppose she thinks a girl can't affect anybody's heart."
"I'm so quiet, you see," said Nance, "but I'll go if you think it's going to hurt you."
"You wouldn't like to see me cry, would you? I boohooed like a kid this morning because they wouldn't let me have broiled ham for breakfast. I smelt it cooking. It would be just like having to give up broiled ham for breakfast to have you go, Nance. Sit down again, will you, and don't leave me until I tell you. Since I've been sick I've learned to be a boss."