Frances of the Ranges; Or, The Old Ranchman's TreasureMarlowe, Amy Bell
General
Frances of the Ranges; Or, The Old Ranchman's Treasure
Marlowe, Amy Bell
Girls -- Juvenile fiction; Ranch life -- Juvenile fiction; Texas -- Juvenile fiction; Western stories
"Till the doctor removes them, Pratt. Now, be a good boy."
"I'll never be able to get out of bed," grumbled the patient, "if he
keeps me here much longer, I'll be bedridden."
"Nonsense," said Frances, with a very superior air. "You haven't been
here two days yet."
"And when is the doctor coming again?" went on Pratt.
"He said he'd come within the week," replied the girl, demurely.
"Good-night, nurse!" groaned Pratt. "A whole week? Why, I'll die in that
time--positively."
"You only think so," said Frances, coolly.
"You don't know how hard it is to lie here with nothing to do."
"You don't appreciate your good fortune, I am afraid," returned the
girl, more gravely. "You might have been much more seriously hurt----"
"You don't suppose I care about being hurt, do you?" he cried, with some
excitement. "I'd go through it a dozen times to the same end,
Frances----"
"Now, stop!" she said, commandingly, and raising an admonitory finger.
"If you show any excitement I will go out of the room and leave
Ming----"
"Don't!" groaned Pratt.
"I shall certainly leave him in charge of you. You won't talk to him."
"No. If he doesn't sit silent like a yellow graven image, he scatters
'l's' all about the room until I want to get out of bed and sweep 'em
up," declared Pratt.
The ranchman's daughter smiled at him, but shook her head. "Now! no more
talking. I'll sit here and promise not to scatter any of the alphabet
broadcast; but you must keep still."
"That's mighty hard," muttered the patient. "Sit over by the window.
There! right in the sun. I like to see your hair when the sun burnishes
it."
Frances promptly removed her seat to the shady side of the room.
"Oh, please!" begged Pratt. "I'm sick, you know. You really ought to
humor me."
"And you really ought not to jolly me!" laughed the range girl. "I think
you are a tease, Pratt."
"Honest! I mean it."
She looked at him with a roguish smile. "What did you say to Miss Latrop
about her hair? Isn't it a lovely blond?"
"Oh! I never looked at it twice. Molasses color," declared Pratt. "I
don't like such light hair."
"Now, be still. Mrs. Edwards sent over word they are coming to see you
to-morrow. If you are feverish I shan't let them in."
"My goodness!" gasped Pratt. "Not all of them coming, I hope?"
"Mrs. Edwards and Miss Latrop, anyway," said Frances, seriously. "Now
keep still."
Pratt digested this for a while; then he held up one arm and waved it.
"Well? What is it?" asked the stern nurse.
"Please, teacher!"
"Well?"
"May I say one thing?"
"Just one. Then silence for an hour."
"If that girl from Boston comes I'm going to have a fever--understand? I
don't want her up here. Now, that's all there is about it."
"Hush, small boy! You don't know what is good for you. You must leave it
to the doctor and me," said Frances, but she kept her head turned from
the bed so that Pratt would not see her eyes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account