"Mary," he said at last, and his voice was gentle, almost plaintive;
"you are a real angel. I just want you to know that I love you and
Tom, and I want you to tell me now that you forgive me for--for--"

"Sh! See if you can't go to sleep, Uncle Joe."

"I'd just like to hear you say that you don't hate me, Mary."

"Of course, I don't hate you. How can you ask such a question?"

"I've been a dreadful--"

"Hush, now. Here's Melissa. Did you get Dr. Fiddler, Melissa?"

"Yes, ma'am," said the little maid-of-all-work, appearing in the
doorway with a couple of blankets that she had been warming behind the
kitchen range. "He's coming at once, ma'am, and--" her eyes were
expressive of an immense pity for her mistress--"he says he's prepared
to stay all night if necessary, and he's sent for TWO nurses, night
and day. Besides all that, his assistant is coming with him."

"That's the kind of a doctor to have," said Uncle Joe, with a vast
satisfaction. "None of your cheap, dollar-a-visit incompetents for me,
Mary. If a man's life is worth anything at all, it's worth more than a
couple of one dollar visits from these--What's the matter with you,
Melissa? Don't glare at me like that. Haven't I the right to live?
Can't I ask for a doctor--a mere doctor--without being--"

"Oh, I ain't begrudgin' you a doctor, Uncle Joe," said Melissa