The dear little soul hurried into the room.
“Please, dear Mrs. Dobson, will you put these flowers in some water? I wish you would let me get up and do it,” pleaded Harry.
“No! no! The doctor says you must not get up to-day, nor to-morrow, and you must promise me not to try when I am out of the room. If you do I shall have to put Josh in here and tell him to keep you in bed.”
“Is Josh your son?” innocently asked Harry.
Mrs. Dobson laughed a merry, sunny little laugh.
“No,” she said. “Josh is my dog. He barked a little while ago to tell me somebody was about. He heard you talking, I suppose. Josh is a wonderful dog. You may see him if you promise not to move your bandage again until I tell you you may.”
“I promise,” said Harry, “unless the house takes fire or something else happens.”
“I don’t see where the delirium went to so suddenly,” Mrs. Dobson thought.
Harry determined to find out if she would grow deaf should he ask about the necklace again. He tried it. Instantly she closed the door, bidding him “go to sleep and not talk any more,” and he, poor fellow, had not had his promised glimpse of Josh.
Harry shut his eyes, tried to sleep, tried to stop thinking about his own old home on the shore of the lake, in Michigan, but the more he tried the more he thought about it. Being weak and hurt, he grew feverish with thinking, and I am sure I do not know what unfortunate thing would have happened to him, had Kate Hallock not appeared on the scene.