The Kings lived in the
centre of the wealthiest quarter of the city, though not themselves
possessed of more than moderate riches. Their name, however, was an old
and honoured one, Jordan himself was a favourite, and none in the city
was too important to be glad to be admitted at his home.
"Anything more I can do for you before I go?" inquired Burns of his
patient when Ellen had gone, smiling back at King from over the big
roses and promising to keep track of Susquehanna for him in her daily
visits.
"Nothing, thank you. You did it all an hour ago, and left me more
comfortable than I expected to be just yet. I'm not sure whether it was
the dressing or the visit that did me the most good."
"You're a mighty satisfactory sort of patient. That good clean blood of
yours is telling already in your recovery from shock. It tells in
another way, too."
"What's that?"
"Sheer pluck."
King's eyelids fell. It meant much to him to stand well in the
estimation of this man, himself distinguished for the cool daring of his
work, his endurance of the hard drudgery of his profession as well as
the brilliant performance on occasion. "I'm glad you think so--Red
Pepper Burns," King answered daringly. Then, as the other laughed, he
added: "Do you know what would make me the most docile patient you could
ask?"
"Docile doesn't seem just the word for you--but I'd be glad to know, in
case of emergency."
"Let me call you that--the name your best friends have for you.
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