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US AND THE BOTTLEMAN
I remembered reading in books that you must n't give much water to fever-stricken people in any case. We lifted Greg's head up,—that is, Jerry did, while I held the root-beer bottle glass, and said:
"Here's the drink, Gregs, dear."
It was very hard to tell what I was doing, and some of the water trickled over the handkerchief and down the front of Greg's jumper. But he drank the rest, and said: "Thank you very much" in the same careful voice.
"Oh, I wish he would n't be so blooming polite!" Jerry said sharply, as we were laying Greg back again, and I felt something wet and warm splash down on my wrist. But I did n't tell Jerry I'd felt it.
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