Dave Law slept for twenty hours, and even when he awoke it was not to a clear appreciation of his surroundings.  At first he was relieved to find that the splitting pain in his head was gone, but imagined himself to be still in the maddening local train from Brownsville.  By and by he recognized Paloma and Mrs. Strange, and tried to talk to them, but the connection between brain and tongue was imperfect, and he made a bad business of conversation.  It seemed queer that he should be in bed at the Joneses’, and almost ludicrous for Mrs. Strange to support him while Paloma fed him.  In the effort to understand these mysteries, he dozed again.  After interminable periods of semi-consciousness alternating with complete oblivion, he roused himself to discover that it was morning and that he felt better than for weeks.  When he had recovered from his surprise he turned his head and saw Mrs. Strange slumbering in a chair beside his bed; from her uncomfortable position and evident fatigue he judged that she must have kept a long and faithful vigil over him.

A little later Paloma, pale and heavy-eyed, stole into the room, and Dave’s cheerful greeting awoke Mrs. Strange with a jerk.

“So!  You’re feeling better, aren’t you,” the latter woman cried, heartily.

“Yes.  How did I get here?” Dave asked.  “I must have been right sick and troublesome to you.”

Paloma smiled and nodded.  “Sick!  Why, Dave, you frightened us nearly to death!  You were clear out of your head.”

So that was it.  The breakdown had come sooner than he expected, and it had come, moreover, without warning.  That was bad—­bad!  Although Dave’s mind was perfectly clear at this moment, he reasoned with a sinking heart that another brain-storm might overtake him at any time.  He had imagined that the thing would give a hint of its coming, but evidently it did not.

Mrs. Strange broke into his frowning meditation to ask, “How long since you had a night’s sleep?”

“I—­Oh, it must be weeks.”

“Umph!  I thought so.  You puzzled that pill-roller, but doctors don’t know anything, anyhow.  Why, he wanted to wake you up to find out what ailed you!  I threatened to scald him if he did.”

“I seem to remember talking a good deal,” Dave ventured.  “I reckon I—­said a lot of foolish things.”  He caught the look that passed between his nurses and its significance distressed him.

Mrs. Strange continued:  “That’s how we guessed what your trouble was, and that’s why I wouldn’t let that fool doctor disturb you.  Now that you’ve had a sleep and are all right again, I’m going home and change my clothes.  I haven’t had them off for two nights.”

“Two nights!” Dave stared in bewilderment.  Then he lamely apologized for the trouble he had caused, and tried to thank the women for their kindness.

He was shaky when, an hour later, he came down-stairs for breakfast; but otherwise he felt better than for many days; and Blaze’s open delight at seeing did him as much good as the food he ate.