At Home with the Jardines Part 28

"Faith, I am very much worried about Jimmie. He is lying down."

"Well, what of it?" I said, with unintentioned brutality. "Does he always sit up that you seem so surprised?"

She looked at me reproachfully.

"He always sits up when he is well," she said, gently.

"Is he ill?" I exclaimed, dropping my gardening shears and hastily wiping my hands on my ap.r.o.n. "Can I do anything for him? Does he need a doctor? I'll go right up."

Mrs. Jimmie coloured all over her soft creamy face. She laid her hand on my arm.

"Don't be offended, will you, dear?" she begged, "but--Jimmie--you know how unreasonable sick men are--"

She paused helplessly.

I waited.

"Well, out with it! What does he want?"

"He said--I didn't realize how difficult it would be to tell you when he said it--but he said--"

Again she stopped.

"I shall evidently have to go and ask him what he wants," I said, moving toward the house.

"No, no, dear! I will tell you! Don't go near him!" pleaded Mrs.

Jimmie. "That is just what he doesn't want. He said on no account were you to come near him."

She paused with a gasp. Evidently she expected me to burst into tears.

"The brute!" I remarked, pleasantly. "I hope he is suffering!"

Mrs. Jimmie's beautiful face became instantly grave.

"He is suffering, Faith," she said, quietly.

"Then why won't he see me? Perhaps I could do something. Aubrey always lets me try. Has he a headache?"

"He has a splitting headache, he says, and a high fever, and his collar hurts him."

"His collar hurts him! Then why doesn't he take it off?"

"That's just it. He won't. He says he always wears it and it never hurt him before, and he'll be--well, he says he won't take it off for anybody."

I turned away and bit my lip.

Poor old sick, obstinate Jimmie! In my mind's eye I could just see him lying there with all his hot clothes on and swearing he would not take them off and be made comfortable.

But I could do nothing. He would see none of us. I sent tea and lemonade and ice and hot-water bags and every conceivable remedy to his rooms, but with no effect. Nor would he hear of our calling a doctor.

About four o'clock Mrs. Jimmie left him for a few moments, and this was my chance.

I slipped into the room. He was lying on the couch with his feet in patent leather shoes,--even his coat and waistcoat on, and a high, tight collar which rasped his ears.

He grinned sheepishly when he saw me.

"You told me to keep out, I know, but I never do as I'm told, so I came anyhow."

"I know that," growled Jimmie.

"Your head's as hot as fire," I said. "And those shoes are drawing like a mustard plaster."

"I don't care. I won't take 'em off," said Jimmie, savagely, raising himself on his elbow.

I turned on him.

"You always were a fool, Jimmie," I said. "You don't have to take them off if you don't want to." (He sank back with a groan of pain.) "But I'm going to do it, and if you kick while your foot is in my lap you'll hurt me."

Before he could wink I had pulled off those abominable things, and slipped his narrow silk-stockinged feet into cool slippers. He couldn't restrain a sigh of comfort. I went in the closet to put his shoes on their trees, and brought out a white linen coat.

"Sit up and put this on," I commanded.

"I will not!" he answered, flatly.

I looked around and there stood Mrs. Jimmie. If she had stayed away another ten minutes, I would have got him comfortable. But in spite of our combined efforts he insisted upon lying there as he was.

I went out and telephoned for the doctor, and when he came it pleased Jimmie no end that he didn't say a word about taking off those hot clothes.

"You see," he said to his wife, "that doctor knows his business. He doesn't devil me the way you women do."

Mrs. Jimmie was wise enough to make no reply.

"He said if you would go to sleep for an hour you would feel better,"

she said. "So put on this thin coat, then I'll close the blinds and go out."

Jimmie looked at her quizzically. Then he slowly sat up and changed his coat without a word.

When he wakened his headache was gone. But he was unable to come down to dinner, and we saw him no more that day.

As he went to bed that night he said:

"I suppose you and Faith chuckled over getting your own way with my shoes and coat. But I want you to tell Faith that I stuck it out on the collar and that I only took it off when I went to bed!"

He was all right the next day, so we were spared the grief of being obliged to bury him in that collar.

So it came to be the last day of the Lombards' stay.

We had all grown exceedingly fond of the dear English people who had come so sweetly into the midst of an American home and adapted themselves to our way of living with such easy grace. No one would have believed, to see Lady Mary in her simple garden hat and cotton gown, that she was a court beauty, over whose hand royalty had often bent in gracious admiration. But it was true.