"But if she is his sister," the little boy reasoned, "why didn't she
kiss him? Janey, she--she always gave me forty kisses."

"Just forty?" Dr. Lavendar inquired, looking at the child over his
spectacles.

David was silent for a moment, then he said, earnestly: "I never
counted. But Janey, she always said 'forty kisses.'" His whole face
quivered. A very large tear gathered, trembled, then rolled over; he
held his hands together under the lap-robe and looked the other way;
then he raised one shoulder and rubbed his cheek against it.

"I guess Janey was a pretty nice sister," Dr. Lavendar said.

David's hands tightened; he looked up speechless, into the kind old
face.

"David," said Dr. Lavendar in a business-like way, "would you mind
driving for me? I want to look over my note-book."

"Driving?" said David. "Oh, _my!_" His cheeks were wet but his eyes
shone. "I don't mind, sir. I'd just as lieves as not!"




CHAPTER V