The gentleman approached my bedside and said, gently, “Am I disturbing you? I found a note from my fellow-lodger when I got in just now, asking me to call up and see how you were getting on.”
“It’s very kind of you,” said I. “I hope you can stay a bit.”
“Certainly; I’ve nothing to do.”
Billy, however, did not apparently favour this suggestion.
“This ’ere cove,” said he, pointing to me, “ain’t to jaw, mister!”
“Quite right, William,” said the gentleman; “I’ll see he doesn’t. I’ll do all the talking and he shall do the listening. You can go down to my room and make my bed ready for me and tidy up.”
The boy looked dubiously first at the speaker, then at me, as if he was not quite sure about the propriety of allowing me out of his sight, but finally obeyed.
“There’s a trusty youngster for you!” said the gentleman, laughing, as he disappeared. “Young Smith couldn’t have found a safer nurse for you anywhere.”
“I believe you are right,” said I.
“And how are you feeling? You’re looking better than when I saw you last, anyhow.”