Part 41 (1/2)
And if you was Mister and Missus Vanderbilt, they couldn't treat you no better up to the Emergency Hospital.”
”But----” Miss Duckman began. Again she attempted to explain that Rudnik was not her husband, and again the conductor forestalled her.
”And if he's able to go home to-night,” he said finally, ”ye'll be given free transportation, in a parlour car d'ye mind, like ye'd be on your honeymoon.”
He patted her gently on the shoulder as he turned to a waiting brakeman.
”Let her go, Bill,” he cried, and with a jubilant toot from the engine Miss Duckman's elopement was fairly under way.
When Harris Rudnik opened his eyes in the little white-curtained room of the Emergency Hospital, Miss Duckman sat beside his bed. She smiled encouragingly at him, but for more than five minutes he made no effort to speak.
”Well,” he said at length, ”what are you kicking about? It's an elegant place, this here Home.”
Miss Duckman laid her fingers on her lips.
”You shouldn't speak nothing,” she whispered, ”on account you are sick, _aber_ not serious sick.”
”I know I am sick,” Rudnik replied. ”I was just figuring it all out. I am getting knocked down by a train and----”
”No bones is broken,” Miss Duckman hastened to a.s.sure him. ”You would be out in a few days.”
”I am satisfied,” he said faintly. ”You got a fine place here, Missis.”
Miss Duckman laid her hand on Rudnik's pillow.
”I ain't a Missis,” she murmured. ”My name is Miss Blooma Duckman.”
”Blooma,” Rudnik muttered. ”I once used to got a sister by the name Blooma, and it ain't a bad name, neither.” He was not entirely softened by his mishap, however. ”But, anyhow, that ain't here or there,” he said. ”Women is just the same--always kicking. What is the matter with this Home, Miss Duckman? It's an elegant place already.”
”This ain't the Home,” Miss Duckman explained. ”This is a hospital, which when you was. .h.i.t by the engine they put you on the train and took you up here.”
”_Aber_ what are you doing here?” he asked after a pause.
”I come along,” Miss Duckman said; ”and now you shouldn't talk no more.”
”What d'ye mean, you come along?” he cried. ”Didn't you go back to the Home?”
Miss Duckman shook her head, and Rudnik turned on his pillow and looked inquiringly at her.
”How long am I up here, anyhow?” he demanded.
”Four days,” Miss Duckman said, and Rudnik closed his eyes again. For ten minutes longer he lay still and then his lips moved.
”What did you say?” Miss Duckman asked.
”I says Blooma is a pretty good name already,” he murmured, smiling faintly, and the next moment he sank into a light sleep.
When he awoke Miss Duckman still sat by the side of his bed, her fingers busy over the hem of a sheet, and he glanced nervously at the window through which the late afternoon sun came streaming.
”Ain't it pretty late you should be away from the Home?” he inquired.