the child."

"Girls are not boys," persisted the doctor; "dey want different
treatment."

"Well, I'm not a brute!" snarled Peter. "Besides, suppose she
turns out rubbish! What do you know about her?"

"I take my chance," agreed the generous doctor.

"It wouldn't be fair," retorted honest Peter.

"Tink it over," said the doctor. "A place is never home widout de
leedle feet. We Englishmen love de home. You are different. You
haf no sentiment."

"I cannot help feeling," explained Peter, "a sense of duty in this
matter. The child came to me. It is as if this thing had been
laid upon me."

"If you look upon id dat way, Peter," sighed the doctor.

"With sentiment," went on Peter, "I have nothing to do; but duty--
duty is quite another thing." Peter, feeling himself an ancient
Roman, thanked the doctor and shook hands with him.

Tommy, summoned, appeared.

"The doctor, Tommy," said Peter, without looking up from his
writing, "gives a very satisfactory account of you. So you can