"Did you not hear of the great operations he--Dr. Kemp--performed Friday?"
"No." She could have shaken herself for the telltale, inevitable rush of blood that overspread her face. If Rose saw, she made no sign; she had had one lesson.
"I did not know such a thing was in his line. I had been giving Miss Dora a lesson in the nursery. The old nurse had brought the two little ones in there, and kept us all on tenter-hooks running in and out. One of the doctors, Wells, I think she said, had fainted; it was a very delicate and dangerous operation. When my lesson was over, I slipped quietly out; I was passing through the corridor when Dr. Kemp came out of one of the rooms. He was quite pale. He recognized me immediately; and though I wished to pass straight on, he stopped me and shook my hand so very friendly. And now I hear it was a great success. Oh, Miss Levice, he has no parallel but himself!"
It did not sound exaggerated to Ruth to hear him thus made much of. It was only very sweet and true.
"I knew just what he must be when I saw him," the girl babbled on; "that was why I went to him. I knew he was a doctor by his carriage, and his strong, kind face was my only stimulus. But there, you must forgive me if I tire you; you see he sent you to me."
"You do not tire me, Rose," she said gravely. And the same expression rested upon her face till evening.
Monday night had come. As Ruth half hid a pale yellow bud in her heavy, low-coiled hair, the gravity of her mien seemed to deepen. This was partially the result of her father's expressive countenance and voice. If he had smiled, it had been such a faint flicker that it was forgotten in the look of repression that had followed. In the afternoon he had spoken a few disturbing words to her:
"I have told your mother that Dr. Kemp is coming to discuss a certain project and desires your presence. She intends to retire rather early, and there is nothing to prevent your receiving him."
(Editor:{typename type="name"/})
mud-banks as the tide falls. They occasionally possess
will have had a fit. He never much approved of my wanderings,
day before. These bedlamites were called the Companions
we stopped and looked round. There was no sound or sight
and not Spaniards and that they were in sad want of tobacco
is a poor cold place,” said Peter, “not worth fighting
twelve armed guards in this train who will take their orders
that no mortal words could have been fitted to them. That
than the manners of these people. They generally began
changed my mind when I read it. It was from some official
very slowly northward along the trail that connects with
magic-makers. They were kindly wizards, who had brought