And he quitted the scene.
Later in the morning, as he was working in the library, Mr Rimbolt entered and greeted him cordially.
“Jeffreys, my dear fellow, you are constantly adding new claims on my gratitude. What can I say to you now to thank you for your heroism yesterday, about which Percy has just told us?”
“Pray say nothing, and discount Percy’s story heavily, for he was the hero. With his broken arm and in all the danger he never lost heart for a moment.”
“Yes, he is a brave boy, too. But I came now to tell you he is asking for you. Will you come and see him?”
Jeffreys followed the father gratefully to the sick-chamber. At the door he encountered Mrs Rimbolt, who, having evidently been present at the boy’s narrative, was pleased to regard him almost graciously, and, delightfully ignoring the previous encounter, to wish him good morning. Percy looked hot and feverish, but brightened up at once as he caught sight of his protector.
“Hullo, old Jeff,” said he, “isn’t this all nonsense? They say I’m in for a mild congestion, and shall have to stick in bed for a fortnight. Just sit down; do you mind, and stay with me. You’ve pulled me through so far; you may as well finish the job.”
Thus informally, and without consulting anybody, Jeffreys was constituted nurse-in-chief in the sick-chamber. The boy would tolerate no discussion or protest on the part of the authorities. He must have old Jeff. Bother a hospital nurse, bother the doctor, bother Scarfe, bother everybody. He wanted Jeff; and if Jeff couldn’t come he didn’t mean to take his medicine or do anything he ought to do. Walker had better put up a chair-bed in the dressing-room for Jeff, and Jeff and he (Percy) could have their grub together. Of course all the others could come and see him, especially Raby—but he meant to have Jeff there for good, and that was flat. Thus this selfish young invalid arranged for his own pleasure, and upset all the sober arrangements of his friends.
Jeffreys delightedly accepted his new duty, and faced the jealousy of Mrs Rimbolt and Scarfe unflinchingly. It was certainly an unfortunate position for the fond mother; and little wonder if in her mind Jeffreys’ brave service should be blotted out in the offence of being preferred before herself in the sick-chamber. She readily lent an ear to the insinuations which Scarfe, also bitterly hurt, freely let out, and persuaded herself miserably that her boy was in the hands of an adventurer who had cajoled not only the boy but the father, and in short personated the proverbial viper at the fireside.
So the fortnight passed. Percy turned the corner; and the time for the departure of Mrs Scarfe and her son drew near.