"I shall refuse to leave you before you are well," replied Helen with a little laugh. "You are my patient, Mr. Stane—the very first that I have had the chance of practising on; and you don't suppose I am going to surrender the privilege that fate has given me? No! If my uncle himself showed up at this moment, I should refuse to leave you until I saw how my amateur bone-setting turned out. So there! That is my ultimatum, sir."
There was an almost merry note in her voice, but there was a note of resolve also; and Stane's gratitude and admiration increased. He looked at her with grateful eyes. Her face was rosy, her eyes were bright with laughter, though they turned away in some confusion as they met his.
"You are a very noble——"
"Oh," she interrupted quickly, her face taking a deeper hue. "You do not know me yet. You haven't seen me at my worst. You don't know how catty I can feel sometimes. Wait until you do, and then you can deliver judgment."
She ended with laughter, and rose from her seat as if to leave the tent; seeing which Stane spoke quickly.
"Whatever the worst or best of you may be, I am happy to be in your hands!"
"Just wait until I have shown my claws," she said over her shoulder, as she passed outside.
Stane lay quite still with a very thoughtful look in his eyes. Outside he could hear her moving about, singing softly to herself. He caught a line or two, and his memory instantly supplied the rest.
"Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me,