They were sitting together at the luncheon table—­the Superintendent, Rose-Marie, and the Young Doctor.  The noontime sunshine slanted across the table—­dancing on the silver, touching softly Rose-Marie’s curls, finding an answering sparkle in the Young Doctor’s smile.  And silence—­the warm silence of happiness—­lay over them all.

It was the Young Doctor who spoke first.

“Just about a month ago, it was,” he said reflectively, “that I saw Lily for the first time.  And now”—­he paused teasingly—­“and now—­”

Rose-Marie laid down the bit of roll that she was buttering.  Her face was glowing with eagerness.

“They’ve come to some decision,” she whispered, in a question that was little more than a breath of sound, “the doctors at the hospital have come to some decision?”

The Superintendent was leaning forward and her kind soul shone out of her tired eyes.  “Tell us at once, Billy Blanchard!” she ordered, “At once!”

Quite after the maddening fashion of men the Young Doctor did not answer—­not until he had consumed, and appreciatively, the bit of roll that he had been buttering.  And then—­“The other doctors agree with my diagnosis,” he told them simply.  “It’s an extraordinary case, they say; but a not incurable one.  The shock—­when Jim kicked her—­was a blessing in disguise.  Not, of course, that I’d prescribe kicks for crippled children!  But”—­the term that he used was long and technical—­“but such things have happened.  Not often, of course.  The doctors agree with me that, if her voice comes back—­as I believe it will—­there may be a very real hope for her hearing.  And her eyes “—­his voice was suddenly tender—­“well—­thousands of slum kiddies are blind—­and thousands of them have been cured.  If Lily is, some day, a normal child—­if she can some day speak and see, and hear, it will be—­”

The Superintendent’s voice was soft—­

“It is already a miracle!” she said simply.  “It is already a miracle. 
Look at Jim—­working for a small salary, and liking it!  Look at
Bennie—­he was the head of his class in school, this month, he told me. 
And Ella—­”

The Young Doctor interrupted.

“Ella and her mother went to church with us last Sunday,” he said.  “Rose-Marie and I were starting out, together, and they asked if they might go along.  I tell you”—­his eyes were looking deep, deep, into the eyes of Rose-Marie and he spoke directly to her, “I tell you, dear—­I’ve learned a great many lessons in the last few weeks.  Jim isn’t the only one—­or Bennie.  Lily isn’t the only nearly incurable case that has found new strength....”

Rose-Marie was blushing.  The Superintendent, watching the waves of colour sweep over her face, spoke suddenly—­reminiscently.

“Child,” she said—­and laughter, tremulous laughter, was in her voice, “your face is ever so pink!  I believe,” she was quoting, “’that you have a best beau’!”