At the house they said the boy had refused to let anyone come into
the room.
“You can’t come in,” he said. “You mustn’t get what I have.”
I went up to him and found him in exactly the position I had left him,
white-faced, but with the tops of his cheeks flushed by the fever, staring
still, as he had stared, at the foot of the bed.
I took his temperature.
“What is it?”
“Something like a hundred,” I said. It was one hundred and two and
four tenths.
“It was a hundred and two,” he said.
“Who said so?”
“The doctor.”
“Your temperature is all right,” I said. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
“I don’t worry,” he said, “but I can’t keep from thinking.”
“Don’t think,” I said. “Just take it easy.”
“I’m taking it easy,” he said and looked straight ahead. He was
evidently holding tight onto himself about something.
“Take this with water.”
“Do you think it will do any good?”
“Of course it will.”
I sat down and opened the Pirate book and commenced to read,
but I could see he was not following, so I stopped.
“About what time do you think I’m going to die?” he asked.
“What?”
“About how long will it be before I die?”
“You aren’t going to die. What’s the matter with you?”
“Oh, yes, I am. I heard him say a hundred and two.”
“People don’t die with a fever of one hundred and two. That’s a silly
way to talk.”
“I know they do. At school in France the boys told me you can’t live
with forty-four degrees. I’ve got a hundred and two.”
He had been waiting to die all day, ever since nine o’clock in the morning.
“You poor Schatz,” I said. “Poor old Schatz. It’s like miles and
kilometers. You aren’t going to die. That’s a different thermometer. On
that thermometer thirty-seven is normal. On this kind it’s ninety-eight.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “It’s like miles and kilometers. You know, like how
many kilometers we make when we do seventy miles in the car?”
“Oh,” he said.
But his gaze at the foot of the bed relaxed slowly. The hold over himself
relaxed too, finally, and the next day it was very slack and he cried very
easily at little things that were of no importance.
At the house they said the boy had refused to let anyone come intothe room.“You can’t come in,” he said. “You mustn’t get what I have.”I went up to him and found him in exactly the position I had left him,white-faced, but with the tops of his cheeks flushed by the fever, staringstill, as he had stared, at the foot of the bed.I took his temperature.“What is it?”“Something like a hundred,” I said. It was one hundred and two andfour tenths.“It was a hundred and two,” he said.“Who said so?”“The doctor.”“Your temperature is all right,” I said. “It’s nothing to worry about.”“I don’t worry,” he said, “but I can’t keep from thinking.”“Don’t think,” I said. “Just take it easy.”“I’m taking it easy,” he said and looked straight ahead. He wasevidently holding tight onto himself about something.“Take this with water.”“Do you think it will do any good?”“Of course it will.”I sat down and opened the Pirate book and commenced to read,but I could see he was not following, so I stopped.“About what time do you think I’m going to die?” he asked.“What?”“About how long will it be before I die?”“You aren’t going to die. What’s the matter with you?”“Oh, yes, I am. I heard him say a hundred and two.”“People don’t die with a fever of one hundred and two. That’s a sillyway to talk.”“I know they do. At school in France the boys told me you can’t livewith forty-four degrees. I’ve got a hundred and two.”He had been waiting to die all day, ever since nine o’clock in the morning.“You poor Schatz,” I said. “Poor old Schatz. It’s like miles andkilometers. You aren’t going to die. That’s a different thermometer. Onthat thermometer thirty-seven is normal. On this kind it’s ninety-eight.”“Are you sure?”“Absolutely,” I said. “It’s like miles and kilometers. You know, like howmany kilometers we make when we do seventy miles in the car?”“Oh,” he said.But his gaze at the foot of the bed relaxed slowly. The hold over himselfrelaxed too, finally, and the next day it was very slack and he cried veryeasily at little things that were of no importance.
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