This was all.  The next moment they were shaking hands as if they had parted the week before instead of thirty-odd years ago.  “I told you I would come if you ever needed me,” said the Doctor.  “I have come.”

“And I never needed you more, and I have needed you often.  It was good in you to come—­for my little girl.”  Her voice suddenly broke, and she turned away, her handkerchief at her eyes.

The Doctor’s expression settled into one of deep concern.  “There—­there.  Don’t distress yourself.  We must reserve our powers.  We may need them.  Now, if you will show me to my room for a moment, I would like to get myself ready before going in to see your little girl.”

Just as the Doctor reappeared, the other doctors came out of the sick-room, the local physician, a simple young man, following the city specialist with mingled pride and awe.  The latter was a silent, self-reliant man with a keen eye, thin lips, and a dry, business manner.  They were presented to the Doctor as Dr. Memberly and Dr. Locaman, and looked him over.  There was a certain change of manner in each of them:  the younger man, after a glance, increased perceptibly his show of respect toward the city man; the latter treated the Doctor with civility, but talked in an ex-cathedra way.  He understood the case and had no question as to its treatment.  As for Dr. Balsam, his manner was the same to both, and had not changed a particle.  He said not a word except to ask questions as to symptoms and the treatment that had been followed.  The Doctor’s face changed during the recital, and when it was ended his expression was one of deep thoughtfulness.

The consultation ended, they all went into the sick-room, Dr. Memberly, the specialist, first, the young doctor next, and Dr. Balsam last.  Dr. Memberly addressed the nurse, and Dr. Locaman followed him like his shadow, enforcing his words and copying insensibly his manner.  Dr. Balsam walked over to the bedside, and leaning over, took the patient’s thin, wan hand.

“My dear, I am Dr. Balsam.  Do you remember me?”

She glanced at him, at first languidly, then with more interest, and then, as recollection returned to her, with a faint smile.

“Now we must get well.”

Again she smiled faintly.

The Doctor drew up a chair, and, without speaking further, began to stroke her hand, his eyes resting on her face.

One who had seen the old physician before he entered that house could scarcely have known him as the same man who sat by the bed holding the hand of the wan figure lying so placid before him.  At a distance he appeared a plain countryman; on nearer view his eyes and mouth and set chin gave him a look of unexpected determination.  When he entered a sick-room he was like a king coming to his own.  He took command and fought disease as an arch-enemy.  So now.

Dr. Memberly came to the bedside and began to talk in a low, professional tone.  Lois shut her eyes, but her fingers closed slightly on Dr. Balsam’s hand.