"When I've gone you're to have breakfast, and I think you'll
both eat it," he said, smiling at them, his eyes bright with
affection and contentment. "Then you're to compose yourselves
for sleep, and I think you'll both sleep. To-morrow Dad's to
be out on the porch - all June is out there, and the roses are
in full bloom. Day after to-morrow Mother'll be there, too,
in the hammock. As soon as these cases I operate on this
morning are out of danger I'll be down again for a whole day.
I'll keep the time clear."

"I'm afraid," said his father, looking suddenly anxious for a
new cause, "your being up all night won't make your hand any
steadier for those operations, Red."

"On the contrary, as a matter of fact, Dad, it'll be a lot
steadier just because of my being up all night, assuring
myself that there's nothing serious the matter with you and
Mother, except the need of a bit of jollying by your boy -
which you've certainly had right off the reel, eh? Aunt Ellen
thinks yet I've probably killed you. Are you the worse for
it, Mother? Give it to me straight, now!"

He bent over her, his fingers on her delicate wrist. She
smiled up into his eyes. "Redfield!" she murmured. "As if I
could ever be the worse for having you come home!"

He dropped on his knees beside the bed, looking at her with
the eyes of the boy she had borne. "Bless me, Mother," he
said unsteadily, all the fun gone out of his face. "I - need
it - to keep decent."