“I must go and see him—­if he’d care to have me.”

“He’d take it as the honour of his life.  He’s crazy over the flowers you sent him.”

“Would he care for books?  And what sort?  I’m going to bring both of you books.”

“Stories of adventure will suit Aleck—­the wilder the better.  Odd choice—­for such a peaceable-looking fellow, isn’t it?  As for me—­something I’ll have to work hard to listen to, something to keep an edge on my mind.  I’ve counted the cracks in the ceiling till I have a map of them by heart.  I’ve worked out a system by which I can drain that ceiling country and raise crops there.  There isn’t much else in this room that I can count or lay out—­worse luck!  So I’ve named all the roses, and have wagers with myself as to which will fade first.  I’m betting on Susquehanna, that big red one, to outlast all the rest.”

* * * * *

When Red Pepper looked in half an hour later, it was to find the door open between the two rooms, and his wife listening, smiling, to an incident of the night just past, as told by first one patient and then the other.  The two young men might have been two comrades lying beside a campfire, so gay was their jesting with each other, so light their treatment of the wakeful hours both had spent.

“No, there’s nothing the matter with either of them,” observed Burns, looking from one bedside to the other.  “Franz is the chap with the heavy heart; these two are just enjoying a summer holiday.  But I’m not going to keep the communication open long at a time, as yet.”

He went in to see Aleck, closing the door again.  When he returned he took up a position at the foot of King’s bed, regarding him in silence.  Ellen looked up at her husband.  There was something in his face which had not been there of late—­a curiously bright look, as if a cloud were lifted.  She studied him intently, and when he returned the scrutiny she raised her eyebrows in an interrogation.  He nodded, smiling quizzically.

“Jord,” he said, “if you want to keep your secrets to yourself, beware of letting any woman come within range.  My wife has just read me as if I were an open book in large black type.”

“Bound in scarlet and gold,” added Ellen.  “Tell us, Red.  You really have good news?”

“The best.  I am pretty confident Anne Linton has turned the corner.  I hoped it yesterday, but wasn’t sure enough to say so.  Did you know that, too?”

“Of course.  But you were in small type yesterday.  To-day he who runs may read.  You would know it yourself, wouldn’t you, Jordan?”

The man in the bed studied the man who stood at its foot.  The two regarded each other as under peculiar circumstances men do who have a strong bond of affection and confidence between them.

“He’s such a bluffer,” said King.  “I hadn’t supposed anybody could tell much about what he was thinking.  But I do see he looks pretty jolly this morning, and I don’t imagine it’s all bluff.  I’m certainly glad to hear Miss Linton is doing well.”