"Feeling worse, Tom?" she inquired, her expression anxious.
"Me? Oh, not a little bit. I feel just like a flock o' birds with yaller wings."
"You needn't be snippy. I know how your ankle must pain you, but——"
"It ain't the ankle, Kate. That feels fine, only I know I can't stand on it. It's what I'm thinkin' about. I was wonderin' 'bout Scotty an' all."
"If I sit with you, would—would you like to talk?" said she with a hesitant smile, the slow red mounting to her cheeks.
"If it wouldn't bother yuh too much."
"I'll be right back."
Kate took away the dishes, and Loudon, who had pulled the blankets up to his chin at her entry, snuggled deeper into the bed and wished himself elsewhere.
"What else could I say?" he asked himself, dismally, "Lord A'mighty, I wish she'd keep away from me."
Kate returned quickly, carried the chair to the foot of the bed, and sat down. She crossed one leg over the other and clasped her hands in her lap. Silence ensued for a brief space of time.