Gordon found Morris not only able but eager to see him. Louise conducted him upstairs to a big square bedroom in the middle of which, between two bay windows, Morris’ bed looked small and lonesome. There was a table by the bed, and on it was a great vase of pink roses, and some magazines, books, and glasses. A rocking-chair near the table with a magazine spread open in it suggested that someone, probably Louise, had been reading to the invalid.
Morris lay flat on his back, with only the wispiest little pillow under his head. Gordon was shocked to see how pale and drawn he looked as he waved a hand at the visitor’s entrance and called quite cheerfully across the room: “Hello, Gordon! Gee, but I’m glad to see you!”
Gordon took the chair beside the bed and asked Morris how he felt.
“Oh, pretty good, thanks! My leg’s done up in a ton of plaster, I guess, and it hurts a good deal. But the doctor’s tickled to death with it, and so I suppose I’ve got to be satisfied too. How are you? I thought you were never coming to see a fellow.”
“I’ve been wanting to come ever since—it happened,” answered Gordon; “but at first they said I mustn’t see you, and then, yesterday, there was the game at Lesterville——”
“It must have been a peach of a game, even if you fellows did get beaten.” Morris paused abruptly and lowered his eyes. “Say, Gordon, I guess you know I’m—I’m awfully grateful——”
“Now, look here,” interrupted Gordon sternly, “don’t you start that too! I’ve had a lot of it from your mother and Louise and Mr. Brent, and if you begin I’ll beat it out of here!”
“All right,” laughed Morris, “only—well, thanks, Gordon!” A twinge of pain brought a momentary scowl to his face. “I was mighty glad you didn’t get banged up too. It was a wonder you didn’t.”
“Oh, I’m like a cat; I light on my feet. What happened, anyhow?”
“I don’t know—quite. The first thing I knew the wheel spun around almost out of my hands and we were smashing against that fence. I suppose there was something in the road I didn’t see. I made a grab for the emergency brake and tried to set it. Then I got a leg over the side of the car and—and that’s all I remember. How badly is the car smashed, Gordon?”
“The right front wheel has most of the spokes out of it, and the axle is bent on that side. And there are some dents in the running board and radiator and one lamp’s done for. I don’t believe, though, it will cost you much to get it fixed up again almost as good as new. I suppose you’ll have to get rid of it, though, won’t you?”