“Well—that’s all right, father. I guess I’ll go to sleep now,” said Carl, after a short pause. “There’s no good kicking up a fuss about that yet.” And drawing his hand away he lay down quietly, turning his face to the wall. He was quite still, until, thinking that he was asleep, his father and mother left the room noiselessly, Mr. Lambert with his arm around his wife’s shoulders.
Then, wide-awake, Carl almost savagely worked himself up on his pillows, and sat alone, thinking.
He wondered what time it was. He did not know whether it was morning or afternoon. That it was day and not night he could guess from the busy rumbling of wagons on the street, and the soft chattering of the twins’ voices in the little garden below. Then he heard the solemn, monotonous tones of the old church clock.
“Just noon-day,” he thought. “The twins have been home all morning, so school must have closed. And it must be fair, or they wouldn’t be playing in the garden.”
At that moment he heard careful, tiptoeing footsteps outside his door. He had already become quick at recognizing the tread of different members of the family, and without the least uncertainty he called out,
“Paul!”
Then he heard the door open.
“I thought you were asleep,” said Paul’s voice.
“Well, I’m not.” Then in a jocose tone, Carl said, “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Why, yes,” answered Paul, in some surprise. “Look here—have you been taking off that bandage?”