Poor Bolton's badly
crippled, I hear--and Breen--they've told you about Breen, haven't
they, daughter?" His voice rose as he mentioned the boy's name.
Ruth shook her head.
"Well, I wouldn't be here but for him! He's a plucky boy. I will
never forget him for it; you mustn't either," he continued in a
more positive tone.
The nurse now moved to the bed.
"I would not talk any more, Mr. MacFarlane. Miss Ruth is going to
be at home now right along and she will hear the story."
"Well, I won't, nurse, if you don't want me to--but they won't be
able to tell her what a fix we were in--I remember everything up
to the time Breen dragged me from under the dirt car. I knew right
away what had happened and what we had to do; I've been there
before, but--"
"There,--that will do, Mr. MacFarlane," interrupted the nurse.
"Come, Miss Ruth, suppose you go to your room for a while."
The girl rose to her feet.
"You can come back as soon as I fix your father for the night."
She pointed significantly to the patient's head, whispering, "He
must not get excited.
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