Virginia became the custodian of his secret with great calmness and solemnly confessed, "We were running over the speed limit, too. Ike usually does. He knows that I enjoy going fast. The speed limit in this town is away too low, I think." "Yes," he concurred, "I wouldn't have been hurt worse if I had been running twice as fast. The point is, that we could both be arrested and fined for speeding." "They always arrest Ike," she explained with complacency. "He doesn't care a bit. He's used to it." Anxiety arose in her eyes. "Surely, they wouldn't arrest one as badly hurt as you?" "You don't know that judge." Joe spoke with experience. "If they brought a dying man into his court who had only fifty dollars to leave to his widow and children, that judge would take it from him for speeding. That is, if he rode a motorcycle." "Oh, the injustice of it. Doesn't he care for motorcyclists?" "No," asserted Joe with great forcefulness. "Nobody likes a motorcyclist." "I do," proclaimed Virginia, and then, after taking a moment to recover from the embarrassment of her own outspokenness, she continued, "It's not right. They are entitled to equal justice," as if enunciating a newly discovered truth. "Sure, they are entitled to it, but they don't get it. That's why I must keep quiet. My accident insurance will take care of my hospital bills and my job will keep." "Why don't you collect damages?" urged Virginia with great gravity. "From whom?" After a moment's consideration, she solved the legal problem. "From me--that is, from my father, for me." At the reference to her father a change came in the injured man. His good humor faded. "No," he said decidedly. "In the first place I wouldn't accept money from your father and in the second place he would not give any." "You don't know my father," she said with pride. "He is a very just man. Sometimes he's gruff and a little cross but he doesn't mean anything by that. He always wants to do the right and generous thing." Her face was alight with loyalty and admiration. "Does he?" There was a note of sarcasm in his voice which disappeared, and he said no more after he had read her eyes. She misinterpreted the change in him. "I have stayed too long," she worried. "You are tired." She remembered the chicken. "I brought you something." She put the plate of fowl beside him. He viewed it in joyous anticipation. "Fine," he shouted. "If there is one thing I love, it is fried chicken. How did you guess it?" She smiled at Miss Knight who had joined them. "A bird told me," she answered him. The nurse put her hands on her hips and viewed the visitor with marked suspicion at this remark, but, as if satisfied that her distrust was unfounded, she retired to the diet kitchen from which hearty laughter immediately thereafter resounded. "Good bye," she told him almost shyly. His good spirits had returned. "You and I are friends, and remember, we are always going to be friends."