Bruce Convalescent
'It's very important,' said Bruce, 'that I don't see too many people at
a time. You must arrange the visitors carefully. Who is coming this
afternoon?'
'I don't know of anyone, except perhaps your mother, and Mr Raggett.'
'Ah! Well, I can't see them both at once.'
'Really? Why not?'
'Why not? What a question! Because it would be a terrible fatigue for
me. I shouldn't be able to stand it. In fact I'm not sure that I ought
to see Raggett at all.'
'Don't, then. Leave a message to say that after all you didn't feel
strong enough.'
'But, if we do that, won't he think it rather a shame, poor chap? As I
said he could come, doesn't it seem rather hard lines for him to come
all this way--it is a long distance, mind you--and then see nobody?'
'Well, I can see him.'
Bruce looked up suspiciously.
'Oh, you want to see him, do you? Alone?'
'Don't be silly, Bruce. I would much rather not see him.'
'Indeed, and why not? I really believe you look down on him because he's
my friend.'
'Not a bit. Well, he won't be angry; you can say that you had a relapse,
or something, and were not well enough to see him.'
'Nothing of the sort. It would be very good for me; a splendid change to
have a little intellectual talk with a man of the world. I've had too
much women's society lately. I'm sick of it. Ring the bell, Edith.'
'Of course I will, Bruce, but what for? Is it anything I can do?'
'I want you to ring for Bennett to pass me my tonic.'
'Really, Bruce, it's at your elbow.' She laughed.
'I suppose I've changed a good deal since my illness,' said he looking
in the glass with some complacency.
'You don't look at all bad, dear.'
'I know I'm better; but sometimes, just as people are recovering, they
suddenly have a frightful relapse. Braithwaite told me I would have to
be careful for some time.'
'How long do you suppose he meant?'
'I don't know--five or six years, I suppose. It's the heart. That's
what's so risky in influenza.'
'But he said your heart was all right.'
'Ah, so he thinks. Doctors don't know everything. Or perhaps it's what
he says. It would never do to tell a heart patient he was in immediate
danger, Edith; why, he might die on the spot from the shock.'
'Yes, dear; but, excuse my saying so, would he have taken me aside and
told me you were perfectly well, and that he wouldn't come to see you
again, if you were really in a dangerous state?'
'Very possibly. I don't know that I've so very much confidence in
Braithwaite. I practically told him so. At least I suggested to him,
when he seemed so confident about my recovery, that he should have a
consultation. I thought it only fair to give him every chance.'
'And what did he say?'
'He didn't seem to see it. Just go and get the cards, Edith, that have
been left during my illness. It's the right thing for me to write to
everyone, and thank them for their kindness.'
'But there are no cards, dear.'
'No cards?'
'You see, people who knew you were ill inquired by telephone, except
your mother, and she never leaves a card.'
He seemed very disgusted.
'That's it,' he said. 'That's just like life; "laugh, and the world
laughs with you; weep, and you weep alone!" Get out of the running, and
drop aside, and you're forgotten. And I'm a fairly popular man, too; yet
I might have died like a dog in this wretched little flat, and not a
card.--What's that ring?'
'It must be your mother.'
Bruce leant back on the sofa in a feeble attitude, gave Edith directions
to pull the blinds a little way down, and had a vase of roses placed
by his side.
Then his mother was shown in.
'Well, how is the interesting invalid? Dear boy, how well you look! How
perfectly splendid you look!'
'Hush, Mother,' said Bruce, with a faint smile, and in a very low voice.
'Sit down, and be a little quiet. Yes, I'm much better, and getting on
well; but I can't stand much yet.'
'Dear, dear! And what did the doctor say?' she asked Edith.
'He won't come any more,' said Edith.
'Isn't he afraid you will be rushing out to the office too soon--
over-working? Oh well, Edith will see that you take care of yourself.
Where's little Archie?'
'Go and see him in the nursery,' said Bruce, almost in a whisper. 'I
can't stand a lot of people in here.'
'Archie's out,' said Edith.
There was another ring.
'That's how it goes on all day long,' said Bruce. 'I don't know how it's
got about, I'm sure. People never cease calling! It's an infernal
nuisance.'
'Well, it's nice to know you're not neglected,' said his mother.
'Neglected? Why, it's been more like a crowded reception than an
invalid's room.'
'It's Mr Raggett,' said Edith; 'I heard his voice. Will you see him or
not, dear?'
'Yes. Presently. Take him in the other room, and when the mater goes he
can come in here.'
'I'm going now,' said Mrs Ottley; 'you mustn't have a crowd. But really,
Bruce, you're better than you think.'
'Ah, I'm glad you think so. I should hate you to be anxious.'
'Your father wanted to know when you would be able to go to the office
again.'
'That entirely depends. I may be strong enough in a week or two, but I
promised Braithwaite not to be rash for Edith's sake. Well, good-bye,
Mother, if you must go.'
She kissed him, left a box of soldiers for Archie and murmured to
Edith--
'What an angel Bruce is! So patient and brave. Perfectly well, of
course. He has been for a week. He'll go on thinking himself ill for a
year--the dear pet, the image of his father! If I were you, Edith, I
think I should get ill too; it will be the only way to get him out. What
a perfect wife you are!'
'I should like to go back with you a little,' said Edith.
'Well, can't you? I'm going to Harrod's, of course. I'm always going to
Harrod's; it's the only place I ever do go. As Bruce has a friend he'll
let you go.'
Bruce made no objection. Edith regarded it as a treat to go out with her
mother-in-law. The only person who seemed to dislike the arrangement was
Mr Raggett. When he found he was to be left alone with Bruce, he seemed
on the point of bursting into tears.