"I can't understand it," said Frank. "What shall I do? Oh, if I only had
someone to help and advise me. I can't go to a soul. If the boys--" he
stopped suddenly. "Yes, why not? Why not tell them the whole story? They
could help me! That's what I'll do. I'll make one more attempt by myself,
and then, if it fails, I'll ask them to aid me. I must see him again.
Perhaps this fit was only temporary, and will not come again for a long
time. I must have another talk with him."
The long night came to an end at last. Frank was relieved by a young man
who told him to go and get breakfast, and then to go to bed.
"You'll have day work after to-night," he said, and Frank was glad to
hear it. The darkness was made worse by the sudden alarms from the
patients' rooms.
Frank slept late that day, and went on duty about four o'clock in the
afternoon. That night passed quietly, but he did not dare knock on the
door of room twenty-eight. He was afraid the man might be suffering from
one of his insane attacks. The boy had almost lost heart but he had not
altogether given up.
Not until the next day did he get a chance to talk with the patient on
whom, for him, so much depended.
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