So Archie went and no one cared to detain him.
Twenty minutes, then a half hour, went by that seemed to the waiting trio like years.
The nurse, reëntering the room, took the sick man’s pulse and nodded to the doctor who was standing close by.
Slowly but surely Mr. Martin opened his eyes, smiling rather wanly at his wife, who was now bending eagerly over him. She was afraid to speak lest he should fall back again into that coma.
The doctor, suspecting her fear, spoke softly. “He’ll be all right now, providing he has nothing to excite him. Perfect quiet and rest will do the trick. I’ll be back in a few hours!”
The nurse went out of the room with him and Mrs. Martin clasped her husband’s hand in hers, fighting back the fears of joy that were continually overflowing. The door opened once again, but this time it was Doris and Westy whose youthful figures were framed in the doorway.
Mrs. Martin put her finger to her lips and motioned for them to come.
“That’s all right,” Mr. Martin spoke weakly. “I want to talk to that boy of mine!”
“Not now, dear,” Mrs. Martin said almost pleadingly. “I’m afraid you’re not quite up to it just yet.”
“Rats!” he replied firmly this time. “Takes a whole lot to kill me, I guess. Westy, come here!”