“I don’t mean coax, perhaps.  But—­”

“Listen.  If the Kid has got that notion, I’m more sorry than you can guess.  Of course, I think pictures and I talk pictures; I admit I make them in my sleep.  And the boys are interested.  Those that are going back with me and those that are not are always sicking me at the subject.  I admit that I sick easy,” he added with a whimsical lightening of the eyes.  “And the Kid and I are pals.  I like him, Mrs. Bennett.  He’s got the stuff in him to make a real man—­and I wouldn’t call him spoiled, exactly.  He’s always been with grown-ups, and his mind has developed away ahead of the calendar; you see what I mean?  He’s nine, he tells me—­”

“Only eight.  He always tries to make himself older than he is,” the Little Doctor corrected quickly.

“Well, he’s some boy!  And kids somehow take to me; I guess it’s because I’m always chumming with them.  He’s been taking in everything that has been said; I could see that.  But I surely never talked to him in the way you mean.”

The Little Doctor looked at him and hesitated; but she was a frank young woman, and she could not help speaking her mind.  “You mustn’t take it personally at all,” she said, “if I tell you that I am disappointed in the boys; in Andy and Rosemary especially, because they ought to appreciate the little home they have made, and stay with it.  One sort of expects Pink and Big Medicine and Weary to do outlandish things.  They haven’t really grown up, and they never will.  But I am disappointed, just the same, that they should want to go performing around and shooting blank cartridges and making clowns of themselves for moving pictures.  Still, that’s their own business, of course, if they want to be silly enough to do it.  But now little Claude has taken the fever—­and I wish, Mr. Lindsay, you could do something to—­” She stopped, but not because what she said was hurting Luck’s feelings.  She did not know that she hurt him at all.

“It seems to be worse, in your estimation, than exposing the Kid to yellow fever,” Luck observed quietly.

“Well, of course you can understand that I should not want a boy of mine to—­to be all taken up with the idea of acting cowboy parts for a moving picture.”

“Still, there are some fairly decent people in the business,” Luck pointed out still more quietly, and got upon his feet.  He had no smile now for the Little Doctor, though he was still gentle in his manner.  “I see what you mean, Mrs. Bennett.  I understand you perfectly.  I shall do what I can to repair the damage to the Kid’s character and ideals, and I want to thank you for coming to me in this matter.  Otherwise I might have gone against your wishes without knowing that I was doing so.”  For two breaths or three he held her glance with something that looked out of his eyes; the Little Doctor did not know what it was.  “You see, Mrs. Bennett, you don’t quite understand what you are talking about,” he added.  “You have not had the opportunity to understand, of course.  But I agree with you that the Kid’s place is at home, and I shall certainly have a talk with him.”