or Certain
asked of the physician.

"Go ahead. I'll keep watch."

Shortly after the itinerant had gone out with the exponent of free and
untrammeled journalism, the boy awoke and looked about with fevered
anxiety for his father. The little nurse was beside him at once.

"You mustn't wiggle around," she commanded. "Do you want a drink?"

Gratefully he drank the water which she held to his lips.

"Where's my Dad?" he asked.

"He's gone out. He'll come back pretty soon. Lie down."

He sank back, fixing his eyes upon her. "Will you stay with me till he
comes?"

She nodded. "Does it hurt you much?" Her cool and tiny fingers touched
his forehead, soothingly. "You're very hot. I think you've got a little
fever."

"Don't take your hand away." His eyes closed, but presently opened
again. "I think you're very pretty," he said shyly.

"Do you? I like to have people think I'm pretty. Uncle Guardy scolds me
for it. Not really, you know, but just pretending. He says I'm vain."

"Is that your uncle, the gentleman that fixed my arm?"

"Yes. I call him Uncle Guardy because he's my guardian, too."

"I like him. He looks good. But I like you better. I like you a lot."

"Everybody does," replied the girl with dimpling complacency. "They
can't help it. It's because I'm me!"

For a moment he brooded. "Am I going to die?" he asked quite suddenly.

"Die? Of course not."

"Would you be sorry if I did?"

"Yes. If you died you couldn't like me any more. And I want everybody to
like me and think me pretty."

"I'm glad I'm not. It would be tough on Dad."

"My Uncle Guardy thinks your father is a bad man," said the fairy, not
without a spice of malice.

Up rose the patient from his pillow. "Then I hate him. He's a liar. My
Dad is the best man in the world." A brighter hue than fever burnt in
his cheeks, and his hand went to his shoulder. "I won't have his
bandages on me," he cried.

But she had thrown herself upon his arm, and pushed him back. "Oh,
don't! Please don't," she besought. "Uncle Guardy told me to keep you
perfectly quiet. And I've made you sit up--"

"What's all this commotion?" demanded Dr. Elliot brusquely, from the
door.

"You said my father was a bad man," cried the outraged patient.

"Lie back, youngster." The physician's hand was gentle, but very firm.
"I don't recall saying any such thing. Where did you get it?"

"I said you _thought_ he was a bad man," declared the midget girl. "I
know you do. Yo