his cheeks, and his hand went to his shoulder. "I won't have his
bandages on me," he cried.

But she had thrown herself upon his arm, and pushed him back. "Oh,
don't! Please don't," she besought. "Uncle Guardy told me to keep you
perfectly quiet. And I've made you sit up--"

"What's all this commotion?" demanded Dr. Elliot brusquely, from the
door.

"You said my father was a bad man," cried the outraged patient.

"Lie back, youngster." The physician's hand was gentle, but very firm.
"I don't recall saying any such thing. Where did you get it?"

"I said you _thought_ he was a bad man," declared the midget girl. "I
know you do. You wouldn't have spoken back to him down in the square if
you hadn't."

Her uncle turned upon her a slow, cool, silent regard. "Esmé, you talk
too much," he said finally. "I'm a little ashamed of you, as a nurse.
Take your place there by the bedside. And you, young man, shut your ears
and eyes and go to sleep."

Hardly had the door closed behind the autocrat of the sick-room, when
his patient turned softly.

"You're crying," he accused.

"I'm not!" The denial was the merest gasp. The long lashes quivered with