“Lady!” echoed Dick. “I, a lady? Not on your life! What have you got into your head now?” he quizzed teasingly.
“But Mrs. Van Vorst said I was to meet a lady—”
“Oh, she was just bluffing you, that’s all,” jeered Dick. “She wanted to surprise you, for—” then Nathalie gave a loud scream, for Dick had begun to walk towards the bureau, slowly, to be sure, for his muscles were stiff, but he was straight as an arrow.
“Oh—why, Dick, where is your cane? You’ll fall—” and then something must have whispered to the girl,—perhaps it was intuition for in a flash she seemed to know.
“Dick,” she gasped, “you’ve had the operation, and you’re all right?” This last was in a tense whisper.
“You bet I am,” returned Dick cheerily, “and in good shape, too. The doctor says I can go home in a week.”
“But where did you get the money?” asked the girl, her eyes big with wonder.
“From a check sent by Mrs. Van Vorst as a tribute to her little friend and adviser, Nathalie Page,” read Dick slowly from a letter which he had suddenly slipped from his pocket. As he glanced down at the girl and saw her staring eyes he flicked the letter before them, laughing as if to recall her to herself. Nathalie blinked, stepped back, and then a sudden light flashed into her eyes, and with a swoop of her hand she snatched the letter from her brother, crying, “Oh, Dick, isn’t she just the dearest! Oh, I’m not worth so much money, I—” Then her eyes swept the page before her.
“No, I don’t believe you are, Blue Robin,” teased Dick smilingly. And then his voice grew more earnest, as he added, “Nathalie Page, you’re the blood, all right. You captured her heart on sight, and this is the result.” He started to walk slowly towards the bed, but the girl was at his side, for she saw that he was beginning to feel a little tired.
“To be sure,” he cried apologetically as he leaned on her a little heavily. “I’m not a speeder just yet, but wait a bit and you’ll see me do a twenty-mile dash in no time.