apprehension. "For Heaven's sake what do you want?"

Helplessly the child lifted her turbid eyes to his. With unmistakable
appeal her tiny hand went clutching out at one of the big buttons on his
coat. Desperately for an instant she rummaged through her brain for some
remotely adequate answer to this most thunderous question,--and then
retreated precipitously as usual to the sacristy of her own
imagination.

"All the birds _were_ there, Father!" she confided guilelessly. "All the
birds _were_ there,--with yellow feathers instead of hair! And
bumblebees--crocheted in the trees. And--"

Short of complete annihilation there was no satisfying vengeance
whatsoever that the Senior Surgeon's exploding passion could wreak upon
his offspring. Complete annihilation being unfeasible at the moment he
merely climbed laboriously out of the car, re-cranked the engine,
climbed laboriously back into his place and started on his way once
more. All the red blustering rage was stripped completely from him.
Startlingly rigid, startlingly white, his face was like the death-mask
of a pirate.

Pleasantly excited by she-didn't-know-exactly-what, the Little Girl
resumed her beloved falsetto chant, rhythmically all the while with her
puny iron-braced legs beating the tune into the White Linen Nurse's
tender flesh.

All the birds were there
With yellow feathers instead of hair,
And bumblebees crocheted in the trees