“Tell me what it is.”
“It’s almost normal.”
“I never have any fever. My legs are full of old iron too.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re full of trench-mortar fragments, old screws and bedsprings and things.”
She shook her head and smiled.
“If you had any foreign bodies in your legs they would set up an inflammation and you’d have fever.”
“All right,” I said. “We’ll see what comes out.”
She went out of the room and came back with the old nurse of the early morning. Together they made the bed with me in it. That was new to me and an admirable proceeding.
“Who is in charge here?”
“Miss Van Campen.”
“How many nurses are there?”
“Just us two.”
“Won’t there be more?”
“Some more are coming.”
“When will they get here?”
“I don’t know. You ask a great many questions for a sick boy.”