The City of Fire - Page 187/221

He called the nurse crossly. She bustled in and told him the doctor had

just said he might sit up to-morrow if he kept on without a temperature

for twenty-four hours longer. But he paid no heed to her. He demanded

his clothes with a young roar of a voice that made her open her eyes.

Billy had heretofore been the meekest of meek patients. She was getting

the voice and manner now that he generally retained for family use. He

told her there was something in the pocket he must see right away, and

he made such a fuss about it that she was afraid he would bring up his

temperature again and finally agreed to get the clothes if he would lie

real still and rest afterward. Billy dropped his head back on the

pillow and solemnly said: "Aw'wright!" He had visions of going to court

in blue and white striped pajamas. It could be done, but he didn't

relish it. Still, if he had to--!

The nurse brought his jacket and trousers. The sweater was awfully

dirty she said, but she was finally prevailed upon to bring that too,

and Billy obediently lay down with closed eyes and his arm stretched

out comfortingly over the bundles. The nurse hovered round till he

seemed to be asleep and then slipped out for a moment, and the instant

her white skirt had vanished from the doorway Billy was alert. He

fumbled the bundles open with nervous fingers and searched eagerly for

the bit of paper. Yes, there it was and the date the third of

September. Aw Gee!

He flung back the neatly tucked sheets, poked a slim white foot that

didn't look like his at all into a trouser leg, paused for breath and

dove the other in, struggled into his jacket and lay down again quickly

under the sheet. Was that the nurse?

He had to admit that he felt queer, but it would soon pass off, and

anyhow if it killed him he had to go. Aw bah! What was a little

sickness anyhow? If he stayed in the hospital any longer they'd make a

baby out of him!

The nurse had not returned. He could hear the soft plunk, plunk of her

rubber heels on the marble steps. She was going down stairs. Now was

his time! Of course he had no shoes and stockings, but what was a

little thing like that? He grasped the bundle of sweater tightly and

slid out of bed. His feet felt quite inadequate. In fact he began to

doubt their identity. They didn't seem to be there at all when he stood

on them, but he was not to be foiled by feet. If they meant to stick by

him they'd gotta obey him.