"I've got to take the four o'clock back - worse luck! - for
some operations I can't postpone. But between now and then
I'm going to look you over and set you straight, and I'll be
back again in two days if you need me. Now for it. Mother
first. Come here, Aunt Ellen, and tell me all about her."

R. P. Burns, M.D., had never been quicker nor more thorough at
examination of a pair of patients than with these. He went
straight at them both, each in the presence of the other, Miss
Mathewson capably assisting. With his most professional air
he asked his questions, applied his trained senses to the
searching tests made of special organs, and gave directions
for future treatment. Then he sat back and looked at them.

"Do I appear worried about her, Dad?"

"Why, you don't seem to, Red."

"Miss Mathewson, should you gather from my appearance that I
am consumed with anxiety?"

"I think you seem very much relieved, Doctor Burns."

"Mother, as you look at Dad over on the couch there, does he
strike you as appearing like a frightfully sick man?"

Mrs. Burns smiled faintly in the direction of the couch, but
her eyes came immediately back to her son's. "He seems a good
deal better since you came, Redfield."