“Look inside them,” he directed.
Within were checks. They were on various mercantile and commercial firms. Mostly the amounts were small; two dollars, two-and-a-half, three, and four, and the largest for ten dollars. Totaled up they amounted to affluence as Our Square understands the term.
“Something new?” I asked.
“Yes. Advertising sketches. They've caught on.”
“I didn't know that you could draw, Leon.”
“Neither did I, beyond scratchy, sketchy blobs, until the Bonnie Lassie told me.
“If the Bonnie Lassie has been giving you lessons, you're in a good school,” I said, for the local sculptress, nymph, and goddess of Our Square had already begun to make us and herself famous with her tiny bronzes.
“Not lessons exactly. But pointers.”
“You're in luck to be making money while you 're laid up.”
“The doc says I oughtn't to work at it. But I had to do something or go crazy. A man can't live by just waiting; can he? So when I can't sleep I sketch. And the checks come in. It's like a miracle. Only—it isn't the miracle that I want. When do you think I'll be strong enough to get out? Can't you tell me? Can't you find out from doc? I'd get better if I only had something to go on!”