“No, but I can get you some.”
“Oh, don’t bother. When you come back, maybe——”
“I’ll get it,” said Andy, shortly.
He was late for chapel when he had succeeded in administering a dose of the quieting medicine to Dunk, and this did not add to the pleasures of the occasion. However, there was no help for it.
Somehow the miserable day following the miserable night ended, and Andy was again back in the room with Dunk. The latter was feeling quite “chipper” again.
“Oh, well, it’s a pretty good old world after all,” Dunk said. “I think I can eat a little now. Never again for me, Andy! Do you hear that?”
“I sure do, old man.”
“And that goes. Put her there!”
They shook hands. It meant more to Andy than he would admit. He had gone, that afternoon, to the theater, where Miss Fuller was on for a matinee, and, sending back his card, with some flowers, had been graciously received. He managed to make her understand, without saying too much.
“I’m so glad it wasn’t—you!” she said, with a warm pressure of her hand.