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Show 309 if he walked quietly past the door they might not hear him. If they did he would say he had just seen the bishop. He sat down at the desk and began filling out his weekly report, accounting for one hundred sixty-eight hours since last week, wondering why he hadn't done it before. He didn't look up when they passed him, carrying the bag; he was trying to keep his figures straight without letting them see he was having trouble making the column total up correctly. He knew they were standing behind him, holding the bag, but he would act as though nothing were wrong. He would continue to write his report while they stood there. They put the bag over him and drew the string. He would fudge the hours somehow/ He went to a florist the next day and took a bunch of nasturtiums to Sorenson's room. That pleased the man in the next bed, who was recovering from a second hernia operation. Sorenson was alarmingly better. The flowers touched him; the gesture was meant to be facetious, and that was what he liked about it. He expected to be discharged tomorrow. Could Lorin come by before noon to take him home? Of course, said Lorin, stricken Before noon, on the dot. With engine running and wheels spinning. They'd be back on the tracting beat before you could say barf. Elder Sorenson ready for that, hey? Sorenson smiled through pain. He thought they might squeeze another day or two of convalescence at home out of this thing. That would be a terrible shame, Lorin said. The man in the next bed said Elder Sorenson had been working on him already, so don't expect him to be out of commission too long. He was afraid of that, Lorin said. He fished a Joseph Smith tract out of his attache case while they were all chuckling- Sorenson had been rushed off without his, of course-and gave it to the man and left for his appointment with the district president which was |
