"Get in, lad," he said briefly, and Larry, surrendering, climbed into the back seat, fighting fiercely meanwhile to prevent the tears from showing in his eyes.
Keeping up a brisk and cheerful conversation with Jane in regard to the game, the doctor drove rapidly toward his home.
"You will come in with us, my boy," said the doctor as they reached his door.
By this time Larry was past all power of resistance and yielded himself to the authority of the doctor, who had him upstairs and into bed within a few minutes of his arrival.

A single word Larry uttered during this process, "Tell my mother," and then sank into a long nightmare, through which there mingled dim shapes and quiet voices, followed by dreamless sleep, and an awakening to weakness that made the lifting of his eyelids an effort and the movement of his hand a weariness.

The first object that loomed intelligible through the fog in which he seemed to move was a little plain face with great blue eyes carrying in them a cloud of maternal anxiety.

Suddenly the cloud broke and the sun burst through in a joyous riot, for in a voice that seemed to him unfamiliar and remote Larry uttered the single word, "Jane." "Oh!" cried the little girl rapturously.

"Oh, Larry, wait." She slipped from the room and returned in a moment with his mother, who quickly came to his side.
"You are rested, dear," she said, putting her hand under his head.
"Drink this.