"Oh! I shall be ready before then, now that whistling-jackass has gone."
"The whistling-jackass?" queried the doctor quickly.
"The nurse. How you can expect any one to get well with that girl about the place, I can't conceive. She did nothing but whistle and talk."
"Did she?" It was obvious that Tallis was making a mental note of the nurse's weakness. "Yes," he continued, "in ten days, or a fortnight at the outside, you'll be fit to travel, provided you take care."
"And what exactly does taking care imply? Does it mean a hot-water bottle and a chest-protector, goloshes and Jaeger underwear?" demanded Beresford irritably.
"You will be weak and easily fatigued. Don't overtire or over-excite yourself, be careful of your diet, keep off spirits and take a good red wine, and generally go slow for a little time," said Tallis professionally.
"But I won't go to Folkestone." There was the note of a rebellious child in Beresford's voice.
"So I understand," said Tallis. "By the way, I shall be running up to town in July, and I'll look you up."
"I wish you would," said Beresford heartily. "I don't want to lose sight of you either. You're such a comic sort of devil, although why you should conceive the diabolical idea of dragging me back resisting to this world I can't conceive. You're just as bad
