Part 15 (2/2)

”That was childis.h.!.+” she said, quietly, and went on picking up the pieces. ”It was a valuable bowl.”

”I am--feveris.h.!.+” said Geoffrey. ”This bandage is getting dry, and I am all p.r.i.c.kles.”

Vesta hesitated a moment; then she laid her hand on his forehead. ”You have _no_ fever!” she said. ”You are flushed and restless, but--Doctor Strong, this is convalescence!”

”Is that what you call it?” said Geoffrey.

CHAPTER XIII.

RECOVERY

”Feelin' real smart, be ye?” asked Mr. Ithuriel b.u.t.ters. ”Wal, I'm pleased to hear it.”

Mr. b.u.t.ters sat in the young doctor's second armchair, and looked at him with friendly eyes. His broad back was turned to the window, but Geoffrey faced it, and the light showed his face pale, indeed, but full of returning health and life; his arm was still in a sling, but his movements otherwise were free and unrestrained.

”You're lookin' fust-rate,” said Mr. b.u.t.ters. ”Some different from the last time I see ye.”

”I wonder what would have become of me if you had not happened along just then, Mr. b.u.t.ters,” said Geoffrey. ”I think I owe you a great deal more than you are willing to acknowledge.”

”Nothin' at all; nothin' at all!” said the old man, briskly. ”I h'isted ye up out the ro'd, that was all; I sh'd have had to h'ist jest the same if ye'd be'n a critter or a lawg, takin' up the hull ro'd the way ye did.”

”And how about bringing me home, three miles out of your way, and carrying me up-stairs, and all that? I suppose you would have done all that for a critter, eh?”

”Wal--depends upon the value of the critter!” said Mr. b.u.t.ters, with a twinkle. ”I never kep' none of mine up-stairs, but there's no knowin'

these days of fancy stock. No, young man! if there's anybody for you to thank, it's that young woman. Now there's a gal--what's her name? I didn't gather it that day.”

”Vesta--Miss Vesta Blyth.”

”I want to know! my fust wife's name was Vesty; Vesty Barlow she was; yes, sir. I do'no' but I liked her best of any of 'em. Not but what I've had good ones since, but 'twas different then, seems' though. She was the ch'ice of my youth, ye see. Yes, sir; Vesty is a good name, and that's a good gal, if I know anything about gals. She's no kin to you, she said.”

”No; none whatever.”

”Nor yet you ain't keepin' company with her?”

”No-o!” cried Geoffrey, wincing.

”Ain't you asked her?”

”No! please don't--”

”Why not?” demanded Mr. b.u.t.ters, with ample severity.

Geoffrey tried to laugh, and failed. ”I--I can't talk about these things, Mr. b.u.t.ters.”

”Don't you want her?” the old man went on, pitilessly. Geoffrey looked up angrily; looked up, and met a look so kind and true and simple, that his anger died, still-born.

<script>