ing I heard as I opened my eyes. I
knew the voice now, and the face with its two great eyes which bent over
me.

I had found my friend at last!

"Hush, don't talk now," he said, as I tried to speak; "lie quiet now,
there's a dear fellow."

"Jack!" I said. I could not resist uttering his name, his old familiar
long-lost name.

"Yes, it's Jack," he whispered, "but don't talk now."

"You forgive me, Jack?" I murmured, heedless of his injunction.

"Yes, a hundred times!" he said, brushing back the hair from my
forehead, and putting his finger to my lips.

Then I obeyed him, and lay silent and happy all day. Happier with all
my pain than I had been for months.

The doctor came later on and looked at my arm.

"He'll do now, I think," said he, "but he will very likely be feverish
after it. You should have him taken to the hospital."

"Oh no," cried Jack. "He must stay here, please. I can look after him
quite well."

"If it was only the arm," said the doctor. "But he's had a bad fall and
is a good deal bruised and shaken besides. He would get better
attention, I think, at the hospital."

"I would so much sooner he stayed here," said Jack; "but if he'd really
be better at the hospital, I suppose I ought to let him go."

"I won't go to the hospital!" exclaimed I, making the longest speech I
had yet made since my accident, with a vehemence that positively
startled the two speakers.

This protest settled the question. If only a sick person threatens to
get excited about anything, he is pretty sure to have his own way. And
so it proved in my case.

"But will you be able to stay at home all day from business to look
after him?" asked the doctor.

"No, I'm afraid not," said Jack, "but I think I know some one who will.
He sha'n't be left alone, and I can always just run home in the dinner-
hour to see how he's getting on."

The doctor left, only half satisfied with this arrangement, and
repeating that it would have been far better to move me to the hospital.

When he was gone Jack came and smoothed my pillow. "I am glad you're to
stay," he said. "Now, for fear you should begin to talk, I'm going out
to Billy to get my boots blacked. So good-bye for a bit, old boy."

"But, Jack--" I began, trying to keep him.

"Not a word now," said he, going to the door. "Presently."

I was too contented and comfortable to fret myself about anything, still
more to puzzle my brains about what I couldn't underst