Читать книгу On the Brink of a Chasm: A record of plot and passion онлайн

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The doctor began to examine the boy, tapping the little chest, listening to his breathing, taking his temperature, feeling his pulse.

“You’ll be better soon,” he said, when he stood up after making his examination. “I’ll send you some fresh medicine; you need not take any more of that bitter stuff. Nurse, I will give you some directions in the other room. Piers, listen to me—you must stay in bed.”

“No, I won’t,” said the boy. “I’m going to get up.”

“You’ll stay in bed, my boy, because I order it,” said Tarbot in a determined voice.

The boy gazed at him out of his great black eyes.

“You order it?” he said slowly. “I didn’t think anybody could order Sir Piers Pelham.”

“And why not?”

“Oh, because—because I’m rich,” said the child, “and I”—he gazed round him in a puzzled way—“I’m great. I’ll be a very great man when I’m grown up. I was telling nurse about it. I was telling her that I’d have heaps of money. I shall have everything my own way. I’ll be a sort of king. The king can do no wrong. That’s a beautiful proverb, isn’t it? I’m going to have it illuminated and put over the mantelpiece. I’m the king and I can do no wrong, and I wish to get up, and I will. You can’t keep me in bed, nor can nurse.”