CHAPTER THIRTEENLightning
All lights were on, and Miss Boylan, the stout nurse, was preparing Mrs. Mason’s supper with the help of the electric plate. Mrs. Mason, a tray across her knees, looked happy and childlike in the pink jacket and the lace cap, of which the strings were now tied under her chin. She waved her fruit spoon at Gamadge.
“I’m ever so much better, Henry,” she cried, “but Dr. Burbage wants me to be careful for a day or two, so Miss Boylan’s cooking for me.”
“Pretty nice, by the smell of it.” Gamadge went up to the bed, and leaned on the footboard to look at her.
“And Louise has found me something black to wear, isn’t it lucky?”
Louise, her arms heaped with delicate black raiment, ducked her head at him, smiling.
“And we were out of sugar and things; Johnny Ridley had
