Well, he had so little else to be fond of; "and I have so much,"
thought Dr. Lavendar, shamefacedly;--"all my people. And David, the
rascal!" Then he chuckled; Dr. Lavendar was under the delusion that he
was unprejudiced in regard to David: "a very unusual child!" he
assured himself, gravely. No wonder Mrs. Richie liked to have him.--
And he would be the making of her! he would shake her out of her
selfishness. "Poor girl, I guess, by the way she talks, she has never
known anything but self. David will wake her up. But I've got to look
out that she doesn't spoil him." It was this belief of what David
might do for Mrs. Richie that had reconciled him to parting with the
little boy.

His eyes wandered to the window; a glittering strip of green light
between the bowed shutters meant that the sun was in the trees. Yes;
to be sure, for the birds had suddenly stopped singing.

Dr. Lavendar yawned and looked at his watch; five o'clock. He would
have liked to get up, but Mary would be worried if she knew he was
awake so long before breakfast. Well; he must try to have a nap, no,
the room was too light for that. He could see all the furniture; he
could count the pleats in the sun-burst of the tester; he could,
perhaps, see to read? He put his hand out for _Robinson Crusoe_,
and after that he possessed his soul in patience until he knew that
Mary would allow him to come down-stairs.

It was in one of those peaceful dawns early in June that he decided
that the moment had come to strike a decisive blow: he would go and
talk to Benjamin of Sam's Sam, and though truth demanded that he
should report Mrs. Richie's good sense he did not mean to insist upon
it too much; Benjamin's anxiety was the Lord's opportunity--so Dr.