movement, a repulsive though almost inaudible clicking of rehabilitated joints—and the Flopper stood erect.
The girl was on her feet, her eyes flashing.
"Can that stunt!" she cried angrily. "You give me the shivers! Next time you throw your fit, you throw it before you come around me, or I'll make you wish you had—see?"
The Flopper was swinging legs and arms to restore a normal channel of circulation.
"Y'oughter get used to it," said he, with a grin. "Ain't Pale Face Harry come yet, an' where's the Doc?"
"Behind the axe under the table," said the girl tartly—and flung herself back on the couch.
"T'anks," said the Flopper. "Say, Helena, wot's de new lay de Doc has got up his sleeve?"
Helena made no answer.
"Is yer grouch painin' you so's yer tongue's hurt?" inquired the Flopper solicitously.
Still no answer.
"Well, go to the devil!" said the Flopper politely.
He resumed the swinging of his arms and legs, but stopped suddenly a moment later as a step sounded outside in the hall and he turned expectantly.
A young man, thin, emaciated, with gaunt, hollow face, abnormally bright eyes and sallow skin, entered. He was well, but modestly, dressed; and he coughed a little now, as though the two flights' climb had overtaxed him—it was the
