He wanted to cry "Stop!" when she laid hand to the curtain, but he
looked, instead, out across the coulee to the hills beyond, the blood
surging unevenly through his veins. He felt when she drew the cloth
aside; she stopped short off in the middle of telling him something
Miss Satterly had said--some whimsical thing--and he could hear his
heart pounding in the silence which followed. The little, nickel
alarm clock tick-tick-ticked with such maddening precision and speed
that Chip wanted to shy a book at it, but his eyes never left the
rocky bluff opposite, and the clock ticked merrily on.

One minute--two--the silence was getting unbearable. He could not
endure another second. He looked toward her; she stood, one hand
full of brushes, gazing, white-faced, at "The Last Stand." As he
looked, a tear rolled down the cheek nearest him and compelled him
to speech.

"What's the matter?" His voice seemed to him rough and brutal, but he
did not mean it so.

The Little Doctor drew a long, quivering breath.

"Oh, the poor, brave thing!" she said, in a hushed tone. She turned
sharply away and sat down.

"I expect I spoiled your picture, all right--but I told you I'd get into
mischief if you went gadding around and left me alone."

The Little Doctor stealthily wiped her eyes, hoping to goodness Chip had
not seen that they had need of wiping.