"And will my curls be cut off before you get a picture?"

The man remembers that Davy has been sick much of late. They have no
likeness of him since he grew beautiful.

"And may I go to Sunday-school if I don't play with the swear boys?
For the teacher said--"

The canal tightens in the throat. The old battle begins.

The man sprays furiously. The child lisps: "Please don't, papa."

The man is hurt to think he has mistaken the child's needs.

The air gets dry again. The child signals with its hand.

"More spray, Davy? Ah! that helps you!"

The man is eased.

"Esther, where is that doctor?"

They had forgotten him. The case is chronic. All the household are
doctors. So now by his coming there is only to be one more to the lot
of vomiters and poulticers.

Yet it dismays all hands to think they have forgotten the famous savior
of Davy. They telephoned for him hours ago. "Ah me!" each says.

The child's feet grow cold. "Hot bottles! Hot bottles!" is the cry.