"Oh, a sprained wrist is nothing to boast of," derided Miss Durant.
"That's why I wasn't boasting of it." Scarlett turned to go.
"Nevertheless"--Evelyn put a detaining hand lightly on his arm--"I took a course in First Aid to the Injured to fit myself for this life, and I know that a sprain ought to be treated with something, for fear something or other should set in. Sarah," she asked in a whisper, "what treatment does one give a sprain?"
"Fermentation," prompted the maid, sagaciously.
"That's it: fomentation! Please, Sarah, go fetch me--whatever one needs for fomentation."
"Believe me, it is not necessary." Scarlett gave his hand another shake. "It soon will be all right."
"Sit here!" Evelyn motioned him, peremptorily, to a chair beside her. "No, on this side. A soldier's first duty should be to obey."
"Ah, well, my arms are ever at your service, even in times of peace." Scarlet leaned back, luxuriously, as she rolled up his sleeve.
"Of course, you understand I should do this for anybody," observed Evelyn, sponging his wrist with the warm water Sarah had provided.
"Of course, ye understand I should fight in defence of anybody's property," he matched her. "'Tis for that I draw my pay."
"Is it tender?" inquired Evelyn, pillowing his hand upon her lap and dabbing it softly with a towel.
"Tender's not half the word for it." The patient turned his face aside. "It's the limit of tenderness, and has to be treated on the homeopathic principle."
"Miss, he makes light of it!" cried Sarah, who, under a harsh exterior, was, by nature, kind. "But his poor brow is simply wrung with anguish." She mopped the beads of perspiration that stifled mirth had brought upon the Sergeant's comely forehead.
"Let us talk of other things to distract him," ordained Evelyn. "Come, Sergeant, tell us all about yourself. Begin at the very beginning."
"Faith, like most babies," he complied, "I began by being the child of my parents."
"They died before my remembrance of them. I infer the honesty and inherit the poverty. I was brought up by an aunt and uncle, who didn't want me. One time when I came home from school for the holidays my aunt just looked up from her novel and remarked, 'Oh, Jerry, how dirty you are!' So I ran away to make my fortune."