“Of course. Glad to. Let me know when you want to go.”
“Really?”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I thought—you seemed sort of down on Mr. Brent and maybe you wouldn’t want to go to his house.”
“Oh, I’m not as down on him as all that,” laughed Dick. “And, anyhow, his house never did anything to me.” He paused and added soberly: “For that matter, Gordie, I don’t want you to think that I am really sore against Mr. Brent. Sometimes I get sort of peeved about that affair of dad’s, but maybe, after all, it was more his fault than Mr. Brent’s. Anyway, I’ve never accused Jonathan Brent of being dishonest. I don’t think he is. Give my regards to Morris if you see him, and tell him I’ll come over and call some day if he doesn’t mind. See you to-morrow afternoon, Gordie. We’ve got to practice hard this week. And I’ll tell Jack to look up his friend in the plating works.”
CHAPTER XIV
A VISIT TO THE INVALID
Gordon found Morris not only able but eager to see him. Louise conducted him upstairs to a big square bedroom in the middle of which, between two bay windows, Morris’ bed looked small and lonesome. There was a table by the bed, and on it was a great vase of pink roses, and some magazines, books, and glasses. A rocking-chair near the table with a magazine spread open in it suggested that someone, probably Louise, had been reading to the invalid.
Morris lay flat on his back, with only the wispiest little pillow under his head. Gordon was shocked to see how pale and drawn he looked as he waved a hand at the visitor’s entrance and called quite cheerfully across the room: “Hello, Gordon! Gee, but I’m glad to see you!”
Gordon took the chair beside the bed and asked Morris how he felt.
“Oh, pretty good, thanks! My leg’s done up in a ton of plaster, I guess, and it hurts a good deal. But the doctor’s tickled to death with it, and so I suppose I’ve got to be satisfied too. How are you? I thought you were never coming to see a fellow.”