"I should care!" I tells him. "Let me in—that's all I want!"
With that the nurse remarks that the Kid is ready to see us, so me and Miss Vincent folleys her down the hall and she opens a door and calls in,
"Visitors, Mister Scanlan!"
"Yeh?" pipes the Kid in a show-em-the exit voice. "Ah—can I have a drink of—ah—water?"
"Certainly," she says. "I'll bring it now."
"Don't rush it!" says the Kid. "It might curdle! Wait till the attendance falls off a bit!"
She laughs—and Miss Vincent didn't.
"Oho!" whispers the pet of the movies. "Like that, eh?"
We go in the room, and there's Scanlan layin' in the whitest bed I even seen in my life and lookin' about as miserable as a millionaire's nephew on the day his uncle dies. There's about three hundred pillows under his head and neck, his arm is all bandaged up and beside the bed is a table with a set of flowers on it.
And then there was that nurse!