Still, she tried to smile at him.
His quiet, impersonal, though friendly look soothed her.
"Am I very sick?" she asked.
He shook his head and smiled. "You'll be all right to-morrow, I hope."
"That's too bad. I would like to be so sick that I couldn't think of
anything else. My father used to say that the world was only the size of
four walls to a sick person."
"I can't promise you so small a world," remarked the Young Doctor with a
kind smile, his arm resting on the side of the bed, his chair drawn
alongside. "You will have to face the whole universe to-morrow, same as
ever."
She looked perplexed, and then said to him: "I used to think it was a
beautiful world, and they try to make me think it is yet; but it isn't."
"Who try to make you?" he asked.
"Oh, my bird Richard, and Nigger the black cat, and Jumbo, the dog," she
replied.
Her eyes closed, then opened strangely wide upon him in an eager, staring
appeal.
"Don't you want to know about me?" she asked. "I want to tell you--
I want to tell you.
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