in the window. The shadow moved; it was the doctor. He hurried
forward.

"Glad to make your acquaintance," said he to Pap, whom he had never
seen before.

"Air ye? You wa'n't expectin' me, surely?"

"Certainly," replied the doctor, impatiently. "What man wouldn't come
under such circumstances?"

"Is there much danger?" said Pap, anxiously.

"The child is as ill as she can be."

"I meant fer--me."

"Great Scot! If you feel like that you'd better not go in." His tone
was dully contemptuous.

"Wal--I do feel like that, on'y more so; an' I'm goin' in all the
same. Reckon I'm braver'n you, 'cause you ain't skeered."

We entered the room. George Leadham was sitting by the bed. When he
saw us he bent over the flushed face on the pillow, and said, slowly
and distinctly: "Here's Mr. Spooner, my pretty; he's come. Do you
hear?"

She heard perfectly. In a thick, choked voice she said: "Is that you,
Pap?"