When Dr. Craven came that morning he seemed
puzzled, also. He asked a number of questions,
to Colin's great annoyance.

"You stay out in the garden a great deal," he
suggested. "Where do you go?"

Colin put on his favorite air of dignified indifference
to opinion.

"I will not let any one know where I go," he
answered. "I go to a place I like. Every one
has orders to keep out of the way. I won't be
watched and stared at. You know that!"

"You seem to be out all day but I do not think
it has done you harm -- I do not think so. The
nurse says that you eat much more than you have
ever done before."

"Perhaps," said Colin, prompted by a sudden
inspiration, "perhaps it is an unnatural appetite."

"I do not think so, as your food seems to agree
with you," said Dr. Craven. "You are gaining
flesh rapidly and your color is better."

"Perhaps -- perhaps I am bloated and feverish,"
said Colin, assuming a discouraging air of
gloom. "People who are not going to live are
often -- different."

Dr. Craven shook his head. He was holding
Colin's wrist and he pushed up his sleeve and felt
his arm.

"You are not feverish," he said thoughtfully,

[[317]]

p316 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p317w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p318

v?