“He’s already in bed, for all the good he is. I thought you were Daddy. That’s why I crept downstairs. I was going to say I was sorry to him for what I did wrong.”
MacMichael stared at the toes of his shoes. “I’m sure he’d forgive you, Toad, whatever it was – and I don’t suppose it was anything too terrible you did.”
“Daddy and I think it was pretty terrible. That’s why it’s important for me to see him. Do you know where he is?”
The old doctor did not reply for a moment, as he stood by the boy’s bed watching him climb between the sheets with the bear in tartan pyjamas. Then he said, “Algernon, you are getting a big lad. So you mustn’t mind too much if you don’t see your father for – well, for a little while. There will be other men about, and we will help you if we can.”
“All right – but I must see him again soon, because he’s going to teach me to do the Four Ace trick. I’ll teach you when I’ve learnt, if you like.”
Algy snuggled himself down between the sheets until there was little more than a tuft of hair, a nose, and a pair of eyes showing. He looked hard at the doctor, standing there anxious and familiar in an old mac.
“You know I’m your friend, Algernon, don’t you?”
“You must be, I suppose, because I heard Mummy tell Aunt Venny that you saved my life. I almost ran out of resources, didn’t I? But would you like to do something real important for me?”
“Tell me what it is, and I’ll try.”
“Would you think I was mad if I whispered?”
Doctor MacMichael went close to the bed and bent his head over the pillow.
“Shoot, pal,” he said.
“You know that bald girl, Martha Broughton? We were going to live next to her till I mucked things up.
Do you think you could make Daddy have her round here so that I could play with her? She can run faster than anyone you ever met!”
“I promise I’ll do that, Algy. I promise.”
“She’s awfully bald – I mean really bald, but I like her. Perhaps girls are better without hair.”
Gently, the doctor said, “I’ll see she comes round here before the end of the week, because I like her very much too.”
“Gosh, you’re a pretty good doctor. I’ll show you I’m grateful – I won’t bust any more of your thermometers.”
Doctor MacMichael smoothed the hair of the boy’s head and left the room. He waited at the top of the stairs to master his emotions, straightened his tie, and then went down to tell the others about the car crash.