eat ’em raw; I got to roast ’em or quit. And on those days I finish up just about out of ammunition. Nannette says that I keep on fightin’ and rollin’ and kickin’ until I horn in on her territory sometimes, but she ain’t got anything comin’ on me. I never had the hysterics and bellowed out in the night until I waked the family just ’cause the turtles didn’t eat all of anything!”
Jamie tightened his arm around the Scout Master and slumped his body into an inviting curve, and in three minutes he held against him a youngster tired to exhaustion at the middle of the day and fast asleep.
When they reached the hospital, Jamie gently shook the Scout Master, and instantly the youngster was up with blinking eyes and an ingratiating smile, ready to prove that unconsciousness of what was going on was for someone else; that particular fellow always was and always had been wide awake. The instant they were inside the hospital, the Scout Master reached for Jamie’s hand, crowded up beside him, and walked to the elevator and down the long halls cat stepping.
Evidently they were expected. The Bee Master’s door was open; a screen shielded the bed from the view of the passersby. The Scout Master sent one look across the room and to the open window and nudged Jamie with a sharp elbow.
“Have you noticed how Margaret Cameron’s roses have fallen off in bloomin’ lately?”
The whisper was sibilant; but Jamie caught it and
