of sleepers, even when worn out with work. He lay staring up at her for a
minute while she smiled down at him, then he held out his arms.

"He's passed the danger point," he exulted, and he took hold of the two
long plaits and wound them about her head. Then he sat up and began
deliberately to unbraid her hair, while she submitted laughing.

"At two this morning he had a bad turn," said he, his fingers having
their way with the dusky locks. "The nurse gave him Van Horn's drugs,--he
grew worse. I rose up and took charge." He laughed at the thought. "We
had things doing there that would have made Van's hair curl. Everybody's
hair curled but mine. Mine stood up straight. I waved my arms like a
semaphore. I said _'Do this!'_ and they did it. I sent every one of Van's
emergency orders to thunder and tried my own. They were radical--but they
worked. The patient pulled out,--he'll live now,--I'll warrant him.
They got Van there just as the thing was over. He and I looked each other
in the eye--and I won. _Ah--h!--it was worth it!_"

He drew her hair all over her face, like a veil; then he gently parted it
and kissed her happy lips.

"Oh, but I'm the hungry boy," said he. "Can't we have breakfast--_now_?"




CHAPTER V

MORE THAN ONE OPINION