'How are you, Joyce, darling?' he said to the child. 'Does your knee hurt
you? Does it hurt you, dear?'

'It does sometimes.' The child was shy of him, cold towards him.

'Well, dear, I'm sorry for that. I hope you try to bear it, and not
trouble mother too much.'

There was no answer. He looked at the knee. It was red and stiff.

'Of course,' he said, 'I think we must have another doctor's opinion. And
if we're going to have it, we had better have it at once. Egbert, do you
think you might cycle in to Bingham for Doctor Wayne? I found him very
satisfactory for Winnie's mother.'

'I can go if you think it necessary,' said Egbert.

'Certainly I think it necessary. Even if there if nothing, we can have
peace of mind. Certainly I think it necessary. I should like Doctor Wayne
to come this evening if possible.'

So Egbert set off on his bicycle through the wind, like a boy sent on an
errand, leaving his father-in-law a pillar of assurance, with Winifred.

Doctor Wayne came, and looked grave. Yes, the knee was certainly taking
the wrong way. The child might be lame for life.

Up went the fire and fear and anger in every heart. Doctor Wayne came
again the next day for a proper examination. And, yes, the knee had