pride, her self-respect--"

"Oh yes; the lancet hurts," Dr.
Lavendar admitted; "but it's better
than--well, I don't know the terms
of your trade, Willy-but I guess you
know what I mean?"

"I guess I do," said William King,
thoughtfully. "Do you suppose it's
too late now?"

"It will be more of an operation,"
Dr. Lavendar conceded.

"Could I tell him?" William said,
after a while.

"I don't see why not," Dr. Lavendar
said.

"I suppose I'd have to ask her permission?"

"Nonsense!" said Dr. Lavendar.

That talk between the physician of
the soul and the physician of the body
happened on the very night when John
Fenn, in his study in Perryville, with
Mary dozing on his knee, threw over,