“No. I won’t let them do you any harm.”
“Will youse watch dem all de time dey’s doin’ tings to me?”
“Yes. And if you’ll be quiet and take it nicely, I’ll bring you a present to-morrow.”
“Dat’s grand! Wot’ll youse guv me? Say, don’t do dat,” he protested, as the nurse applied the sponge and cone to his face.
“Lie still, Swot,” said Constance, soothingly, “and tell me what you would best like me to give you. Shall it be a box of building-blocks—or some soldiers—or a fire-engine—or—”
“Nah. Ise don’t want nuttin’ but one ting—an’ dat’s—wot wuz Ise tinkin’—Ise forgits wot it wuz—lemme see—Wot’s de matter? Wheer is youse all?—” The little frame relaxed and lay quiet.
“That is all you can do for us, Miss Durant,” said Dr. Armstrong.
“May I not stay, as I promised him I would?” begged Constance.
“Can you bear the sight of blood?”
“I don’t know—but see—I’ll turn my back.” Suiting the action to the word, the girl faced so that, still holding Swot’s hand, she was looking away from the injured leg.