“Does your head ache, Mr. Graves?” I asked.

“The doctor says ‘does your head ache?’ ” Mrs. Schallibaum squalled, so loudly that the patient started perceptibly.

“I heard him, m’dear girl,” he answered with a faint smile. “Not deaf you know. Yes. Head aches a good deal. But I thing this gennleman mistakes⁠—”

“He says you are to keep awake. You mustn’t go to sleep again, and you are not to close your eyes.”

“All ri’ Pol’n. Keep’m open,” and he proceeded forthwith to shut them with an air of infinite peacefulness. I grasped his hand and shook it gently, on which he opened his eyes and looked at me sleepily. The housekeeper stroked his head, keeping her face half-turned from me⁠—as she had done almost constantly, to conceal the squinting eye, as I assumed⁠—and said: