"Put the varlets in prison and I
will have them beheaded to-morrow."
He was quieter now, and the attendants, pretending to drive before them
a crowd of men who had defied the king, left the room. The head nurse, a
strong man, who seemed to know just how to treat the patient, helped to
set the room in order.
"Here, your majesty," he said, holding out a glass of liquid, "here is
your favorite beverage; fresh buttermilk."
"It is very welcome," said the patient readily swallowing the liquid
which looked like anything but the product from the churn.
"He'll be quiet for the rest of the night," the attendant observed to
Frank, as he left the room, having seen the pretended king get into bed.
"We call his sleeping medicine buttermilk, and he takes it like a baby.
You're a new one, aren't you?"
"I came this evening."
"Well, you've seen one of our worst ones. Most of 'em are as quiet as the
man in twenty-eight. He only gets real bad once in a while."
"Who is he?" asked Frank, impulsively.
The attendant looked curiously at the boy.
"Don't you know the rules?" he asked. "That's so, you're a new boy.
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