The Summer of Sir Lancelot

Secretary.‘
    ‘Sorry, sir. I brought your evening paper.‘
    ‘And what precisely happens to be your function in St Swithin‘s at the moment?‘ Sir Lancelot inquired, taking the paper. ‘I thought you were the Out Patients‘ oddbody?‘
    ‘I‘ve been promoted from that, sir,‘ Crimes told him proudly. ‘Though this week I‘m helping Harry on the gate and tilling in holiday reliefs. Monday I‘m back on my proper job.‘
    ‘Which is?‘
    ‘Mortuary porter,‘ Crimes informed him cheerfully.
    ‘H‘m,‘ said Sir Lancelot.
    ‘So we might be meeting again professionally, as it were? I meant that only in a humorous way of course,‘ he added, picking a front tooth.
    ‘Your sense of fun, Crimes, at times touches heights positively Gilbertian.‘
    ‘Thank you, sir. O‘course, it‘s all round the hospital how the Professor‘s going to chop up your poor old back.‘
    ‘I wish to damp your sense neither of humour nor of the dramatic,‘ Sir Lancelot told him briskly, ‘but in the interests of truth I will point out that the Professor is performing merely an exploration to investigate the cause of my pain.‘
    ‘Ar,‘ nodded Crimes, ‘that‘s what they all say to you.‘
    ‘Get out!‘ barked Sir Lancelot. ‘And once I‘m on my feet again the first thing I‘ll do is break your blasted neck.‘
    ‘Right-ho, sir. Goodbye,‘ ended Crimes cheerily, ‘and good luck.‘
    ‘blasted clockwork ghoul,‘ muttered Sir Lancelot.
    He turned to the lunch edition of the evening paper. An item on the front page caught his eye:
     
    SCENES ON STOCK EXCHANGE
    BROKERS FAINT
    UNITED DRUG PLUNGE
     
    ‘H‘m,‘ he observed. ‘I haven‘t got any of their ruddy shares, anyway.‘ He studied the racing form for some time, then finishing his tooth mug switched on his bedside fan, pulled up his sheet, gave a yawn, and composed himself for an afternoon nap.
    ‘Enter!‘
    A redheaded nurse of Euphemia‘s age put her head in the door.
    ‘Good afternoon, Sir Lancelot. I‘ve come to make you comfortable.‘
    ‘Thank you, Nurse. I am perfectly — ‘
    ‘Sister said specially, Sir Lancelot,‘ she added firmly, striding in.
    She proceeded to make him comfortable, by sitting him up, violently shaking his pillows, slapping him down again, and tucking in the bedclothes so firmly that any movement was impossible save gentle respiration.
    ‘Sleep well, Sir Lancelot,‘ she called gaily, shutting the door. ‘Pleasant dreams.‘
    ‘Comfortable!‘ growled the surgeon, fighting his way out of the strait-jacket. ‘The damn woman seems to think I‘m a corpse already.‘
    After some minutes he had sheet and pillows arranged to his taste. He snuggled down his shoulders. He closed his eyes.
    ‘Enter!‘
    It was the redheaded nurse again.
    ‘Did you want a bottle before you dropped off Sir Lancelot?‘
    He eyed her. ‘My dear girl, I have known how to make such wishes public since I was in the bottom form at school.‘
    ‘Right you are, Sir Lancelot,‘ she said lightly. ‘Sleep tight.‘
    He shut his eyes again.
    ‘Enter!‘ he bawled, as another knock rang out. ‘What the devil do you want?‘ he asked angrily as Crimes reappeared.
    ‘Harry sent up a telegram, sir.‘ Crimes laid it on the bedside locker with a sniff. His eyes travelled to the empty tooth mug. ‘Glad you had your little drop after lunch, Sir Lancelot. The prisoner ate a hearty breakfast, eh?‘ He gave a laugh.
    ‘Get out.‘
    ‘We might as well enjoy these things while we can, I always say.‘
    ‘Get out.‘
    ‘Nice flowers you got here,‘ he went on, smelling the vase.
    ‘I will save you the bother of enlarging on your innuendo,‘ Sir Lancelot told him wearily, ‘by suggesting you are doubtless thinking how much better the display will be at my forthcoming funeral.‘
    Crimes looked shocked. ‘I‘d never imagine a thing like that, would I? I‘m all care and sympathy for you, Sir Lancelot. It‘s just that I feel a bit funny standing here on my own two feet while you‘re the one flat on your back awaiting the old chopper.‘
    ‘You have five seconds, Crimes,‘ Sir Lancelot told him evenly. ‘In which time either you will have left this room or I will have telephoned the Hospital Secretary to evict you with your cards in your pocket.‘
    ‘Very good. Nothing personal meant o‘course, Sir Lancelot.‘ His head poked round the door again a moment later. ‘I‘ll be seeing you tomorrow, sir — I‘ve just heard I‘m on a