y.

Things were vague to him for hours longer, and a sleeping powder kept
the next morning drowsy, but in the afternoon, when Marston came for
his hourly look at the patient, "Dick," said the patient, "I want to
talk to you."

"All right, old man," Dick answered, "but first just a word. I hate to
bother you, but somebody's after you on long-distance. The fellow has
telephoned three times--I was here the last time. He says----"

The man with the bandages on his head groaned. "Don't," he begged and
tossed his hand out. "I know what he's wanting. I can't talk to him.
I don't want to hear. It's no use. Shut him off, Dick, can't you?"

"Sure, old man," Marston agreed soothingly. "Only, he says----"

"Oh, don't--I know what it is--don't let him say it," pleaded the
invalid, quite unreasonable, entirely obstinate.

A committee from the vestry of a city church had, unknown to him at the
moment, come to Warchester to hear him preach the Sunday before he had
left on his trip. A letter from the rector since had warned him that
they were full of enthusiasm about his sermon and himself and that a
call to the rectorship of the church was imminent. This was a
preliminary of the call; there was no doubt in his mind about that.
And knowing as he did how he was going to give up his work, writhing as
he was under the last proof, as he felt it, of his unfitness, the
thought of facing suave vestrymen even over a telephone, was a horror
not to be borne.

"Tell 'em I'm dead, Dick, there's a good boy. I _won't_ talk to
anybody--to-day or to-morrow, anyhow."

"All right," Dick agreed. The patient was flushed and excited--it
would not do to go on. "But the chap said he might run down here," he
added, thinking aloud.

The patient started up on his elbow and glared. "Great Scott--don't
let him do that; you won't let him get at me, Dick? I'm sorry to be
such a poor fool, but--just now--to-day--two or three days--Dick, I
_can't_"--he stammered out, his hands shaking, his face twisting. And
Dick Marston, as gently as a woman might, took in charge this friend
whom he loved.

"Don't you worry, Geoffie; the bears shan't eat you this trip. I'll
settle the chap next time he calls up."

And McBirney fell back, with closed eyelids, relieved, secure in Dick's
strength. He lay, breathing quickly, a moment or two, and then opened
his eyes.

"When can I get away, Dick?"

"We'll start to-morrow if you're strong enough."

"Yo