She moved about the tidy room, doing useless and unnecessary things to satisfy her inner sense of duty. He did not know that her heart was beating fast or that her hands trembled. She was almost as white as he when she sat down beside him. There were many questions that he wished to ask her, but he was not sure to what new ground of relationship his recovery had brought them. “I’ve given everybody a lot of trouble. Kind o’ tough turnin’ Father Jim out of his own bed. He’s the real stuff, all right. I guess I’ll be some time squarin’ this. He says”--he hesitated a moment and the smile died away from his good-humoured mouth--“he--Father Jim says my boss was out here.” “Yes,” Jean replied. “Mr. Craighill came out here when you were sick and sat right there beside you. He was very kind and has had things sent out--many nice things to eat. The nurse has been giving them to you; she didn’t know where they came from, probably.” “How long ago did he come?” asked Joe, the apprehension showing in his face, and she understood. “That was when you were first sick. There was a chance that you might never get well and you were delirious and kept talking about him and calling for him. So Father Paddock telephoned him to come.” “Where is he now?” Joe asked presently; and Jean met his eyes and answered: “I don’t know. I think he’s gone away somewhere.” Joe shook his head weakly on the pillow. “I guess I ought to be up and lookin’ out for him. I could always handle him when he was bad. You better get Walsh on the job.” “Mr. Walsh and Mr. Wingfield both understand. You needn’t trouble about Mr. Craighill.” “I guess Whiskers--that’s Wingfield--is all right,” remarked Joe reflectively. “Wingfield and Walsh are good friends of the boss and I guess they’ll look out for him. But he’s pretty fierce to handle when he gets goin’.” “You may be mistaken,” said Jean. “I don’t believe it’s that.” “Well, he’s due all right. If Whiskers and Walsh are both lookin’ for him he must be pretty bad. I say, Jean.” “Yes, Joe.”