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 we’ll see what we can do, with the help of the good God and all outdoors, to put you on your feet. Now, come on, let’s have a look at that sick side of yours.”

So Jamie stretched himself on the bed and uncovered his breast. Margaret Cameron, bending over him, could feel the blood slowly receding from her face.

“My, but that’s an angry wound!” she said, at last. “The flesh looks as if it had been burned. It’s almost angry enough for what we used to call ‘proud’ fesh, And it is deep and it’s wide.”

She stood staring an instant. Then she shifted her eyes to Jamie’s.

“Are you good for a strenuous diet and a stiff pull?” she asked.

“If you mean have I got the courage, yes,” said Jamie. “If you mean have I got the strength or have I got a chance—I don’t know. All I know is that I am going in the ocean. All I know is that I am going to soak in sunshine. All I know is that I am going to be a calamity to the tomato patch. Why I want these things, I don’t know. But I am ravenous for all of them, and since they are here, why shouldn’t I have them?”

“Where’d you get that tomato idea?” asked Margaret Cameron.

“T ate one yesterday and it seemed to fill a long-felt want. It seemed to hit the exact spot. I had a feeling that it was cleansing and cooling. I got the idea that if I’d squeeze the juice from a couple of them and drink it at a time when my stomach is empty, it might do some-