You've got something on your mind that's troubling you; and
the sooner you get rid of it, if you can, the better. That's all I've
got to say." And he marched off.
"Get rid of it," mused Jim, "how in thunder'll I get rid of it if I
don't hear from Sallie? Let me see--ah! I have it!" and looking more
cheerful on the instant he lay still, watching for the doctor to come
down the ward once more. "Helloa!" he called, then. "Helloa!" responded
the doctor, coming over to him, "what's the go now? you're improved
already."
"Got any objection to telling a lie?"--this might be called coming to
the point.
"That depends--" said the doctor.
"Well, all's fair in love and war, they say. This is for love. Help a
fellow?"
"Of course,--if I can,--and the fellow's a good one, like Jim Given.
What is it you want?"
"Well, I want a letter written, and I can't do it myself, you
know,"--looking down at his still bandaged arm,--"likewise I want a lie
told in it, and these ladies here are all angels, and of course you
can't ask an angel to tell a lie,--no offence to you; so if you can take
the time, and'll do it, I'll stand your everlasting debtor, and shoulder
the responsibility if you're afraid of the weight."
"What sort of a lie?"
"A capital one; listen. I want a young lady to know that I'm wounded in
the arm,--you see? not bad; nor nothing over which she need worry, and
nothing that hurts me much; and I ain't damaged in any other way; legs
not mentioned in this concern,--you understand?" The doctor nodded.
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