ADay’sWaitErnestHemingwayADay’sWaitByErnestHemingwayHecameintotheroomtoshutthewindowswhilewewerestillinbedandIsawhelookedill.Hewasshivering,hisfacewaswhite,andhewalkedslowlyasthoughitachedtomove."What'sthematter,Schatz?""I'vegotaheadache.""Youbettergobacktobed.""No,I'mallright.""Yougotobed.I'llseeyouwhenI'mdressed."ButwhenIcamedownstairshewasdressed,sittingbythefire,lookingaverysickandmiserableboyofnineyears.WhenIputmyhandonhisforeheadIknewhehadafever."Yougouptobed,"Isaid,"you'resick.""I'mallright,"hesaid.Whenthedoctorcamehetooktheboy'stemperature."Whatisit?"Iaskedhim."Onehundredandtwo."Downstairs,thedoctorleftthreedifferentmedicinesindifferentcoloredcapsuleswithinstructionsforgivingthem.Onewastobringdownthefever,anotherapurgative,thethirdtoovercomeanacidcondition.Thegermsofinfluenzacanonlyexistinanacidcondition,heexplained.Heseemedtoknowallaboutinfluenzaandsaidtherewasnothingtoworryaboutifthefeverdidnotgoaboveonehundredandfourdegrees.Thiswasalightepidemicoffluandtherewasnodangerifyouavoidedpneumonia.BackintheroomIwrotetheboy'stemperaturedownandmadeanoteofthetimetogivethevariouscapsules."Doyouwantmetoreadtoyou?""Allright.Ifyouwantto,"saidtheboy.Hisfacewasverywhiteandthereweredarkareasunderhiseyes.Helaystillinthebedandseemedverydetachedfromwhatwasgoingon.IreadaloudfromHowardPyle'sBookofPirates;butIcouldseehewasnotfollowingwhatIwasreading."Howdoyoufeel,Schatz?"Iaskedhim."Justthesame,sofar,"hesaid.IsatatthefootofthebedandreadtomyselfwhileIwaitedforittobetimetogiveanothercapsule.Itwouldhavebeennaturalforhimtogotsleep,butwhenIlookeduphewaslookingatthefootofthebed,lookingverystrangely."Whydon'tyoutrytosleep?I'llwakeyouupforthemedicine.""I'dratherstayawake."Afterawhilehesaidtome,"Youdon'thavetostayinherewithme,Papa,ifitbothersyou.""Itdoesn'tbotherme.""No,Imeanyoudon'thavetostayifit'sgoingtobotheryou."Ithoughtperhapshewasalittlelightheadedandaftergivinghimtheprescribedcapsulesateleveno'clockIwentoutforawhile.Itwasabright,coldday,thegroundcoveredwithasleetthathadfrozensothatitseemedasifallthebaretrees,thebushes,thecutbrushandallthegrassandthebaregroundhadbeenvarnishedwithice.ItooktheyoungIrishsetterforalittlewalkuptheroadandalongafrozencreek,butitwasdifficulttostandorwalkontheglassysurfaceandthereddogslippedandslitheredandIfelltwice,hard,oncedroppingmygunandhavingitslideawayovertheice.1ADay’sWaitErnestHemingwayWeflushedacoveyofquailunderahighclaybankwithoverhangingbrushandIkilledtwoastheywentoutofsightoverthetopofthebank.Someofthecoveylitintrees,butmostofthemscatteredintobrushpilesanditwasnecessarytojumpontheice-coatedmoundsofbrushseveraltimesbeforetheywouldflush.Comingoutwhileyouwerepoisedunsteadilyontheicy,springybrushtheymadedifficultshootingandIkilledtwo,missedfive,andstartedbackpleasedtohavefoundacoveyclosetothehouseandhappythereweresomanylefttofindonanotherday.Atthehousetheysaidtheboyhadrefusedtoletanyonecomeintotheroom."Youcan'tcomein,"hesaid,"Youmustn'tgetwhatIhave."IwentuptohimandfoundhiminexactlythepositionIhadlefthim,white-faced,butwiththetopsofthecheeksflushedbythefever,staringstill,ashehadstared,atthefootofthebed.Itookhistemperature."Whatisit?""Somethinglikeahundred,"Isaid.Itwasonehundredandtwoandfourtenths.“Itwasahundredandtwo,”hesaid."Whosaidso?""Thedoctor.""Yourtemperatureisallright,"Isaid."It'snothingtoworryabout.""Idon'tworry,"hesaid,"butIcan'tkeepfromthinking.""Don'tthink,"Isaid."Justtakeiteasy.""I'mtakingiteasy,"hesaidandlookedstraight-ahead.Hewasevidentlyholdingtightontohimselfaboutsomething."Takethiswithwater.""Doyouthinkitwilldoanygood?""Ofcourseitwill."IsatdownandopenedthePiratebookandcommencedtoread,butIcouldseehewasnotfollowing,soIstopped."AboutwhattimedoyouthinkIamgoingtodie?"heasked."What?""AbouthowlongwillitbebeforeIdie?""Youaren'tgoingtodie.What'sthematterwithyou?""Oh,yes,Iam.Iheardhimsayahundredandtwo.""Peopledon'tdiewithafeverofonehundredandtwo.That'sasillywaytotalk.""Iknowtheydo.AtschoolinFrancetheboystoldmeyoucan'tlivewithforty-fourdegrees.I'vegotahundredandtwo."Hehadbeenwaitingtodieallday,eversincenineo'clockinthemorning."YoupoorSchatz,"Isaid."PooroldSchatz.It'slikemilesandkilometers.Youaren'tgoingtodie.That'sadifferentthermometer.Onthatthermometerthirty-sevenisnormal.Onthiskindit'sninety-eight.""Areyousure?""Absolutely,"Isaid."It'slikemilesandkilometers.Youknow,likehowmanykilometerswemakewhenwedoseventymilesinthecar?""Oh,"hesaid.Buthisgazeatthefootofthebedrelaxedslowly.Theholdoverhimselfrelaxedtoo,finally,andthenextdayitwasveryslackandhecriedveryeasilyatlittlethingsthatwereofnoimportance.2
