quickly brought the fire into order, and cooked the meat as
handily as a woman. Thanks to him, the supper proved a merry one
in spite of the smoky dining-room, the meagre bill of fare, and
the great white blister on the side of Alan's hand, which the lad
was doing his best to keep out of the doctor's sight. Molly raised
her eyebrows and darted a comical glance at Polly when the doctor
asked for a second plate of the pudding, and it was not until long
afterwards that the girls knew of the manful effort he had made to
swallow the sticky compound.

"Can I do anything more to help you?" he asked, stopping behind
Alan's chair as he was going away.

"You've done enough already, I should think," answered Molly
gratefully.

"It was too bad for Mary to leave you in the lurch," he replied.
Then, as his eyes fell on Alan's hand, he added, "That's a hard
burn, my boy! Why in the world didn't you say something about it?"

"What was the use?" inquired Alan calmly. "Grumbling about it
wouldn't do it any good."

"No; but I could," responded the doctor. "I like your pluck, but
there's no use making a martyr of yourself for nothing. Come into
my den and let me put something on it." And after a moment's
delay, he went striding away down the street, looking at his watch
as he walked.

"How do people ever manage to keep house?" sighed Molly, an hour