Adelaide looked suddenly warm, though she laughed too.  “Why did you ask about Dr. Schulze’s daughters?” she asked.

“I saw one of them this morning—­a beauty, a tip-topper.  And no nonsense about her.  As she’s ‘black,’ I suppose her name is Madelene.”

“Oh, I remember now!” exclaimed Adelaide.  “Madelene is going to be a doctor.  They say she’s got nerves of iron—­can cut and slash like her father.”

Arthur was furious, just why he didn’t know.  No doubt what Del said was true, but there were ways and ways of saying things.  “I suppose there is some sneering at her,” said he, “among the girls who couldn’t do anything if they tried.  It seems to me, if there is any profession a woman could follow without losing her womanliness, it is that of doctor.  Every woman ought to be a doctor, whether she ever tries to make a living out of it or not.”

Adelaide was not a little astonished by this outburst.

“You’ll be coming round to Dory’s views of women, if you aren’t careful,” said she.

“There’s a lot of sense in what Dory says about a lot of things,” replied Arthur.

Del sheered off.  “How did the doctor say your hand is?”

“Oh—­all right,” said Arthur.  “I’m going to work on Monday.”

“Did he say you could?”

“No, but I’m tired of doing nothing.  I’ve got to ‘get busy’ if I’m to pull out of this mess.”

His look, his tone made his words sound revolutionary.  And, in fact, his mood was revolutionary.  He was puzzled at his own change of attitude.  His sky had cleared of black clouds; the air was no longer heavy and oppressive.  He wanted to work; he felt that by working he could accomplish something, could deserve and win the approval of people who were worthwhile—­people like Madelene Schulze, for instance.

Next day he lurked round the corner below the doctor’s house until he saw him drive away; then he went up and rang the bell.  This time it was the “blonde” that answered—­small and sweet, pink and white, with tawny hair.  This was disconcerting.  “I couldn’t get here earlier,” he explained.  “I saw the doctor just driving away.  But, as these bandages feel uncomfortable, I thought perhaps his daughter—­your sister, is she not?—­might—­might fix them.”

Walpurga looked doubtful.  “I think she’s busy,” she said.  “I don’t like to disturb her.”

Just then Madelene crossed the hall.  Her masses of black hair were rolled into a huge knot on top of her head; she was wearing a white work slip and her arms were bare to the elbows—­the finest arms he had ever seen, Arthur thought.  She seemed in a hurry and her face was flushed—­she would have looked no differently if she had heard his voice and had come forth to prevent his getting away without having seen him.  “Meg!” called her sister.  “Can you—­”

Madelene apparently saw her sister and Arthur for the first time.  “Good morning, Mr. Ranger.  You’ve come too late.  Father’s out.”