Then abruptly he stopped and shot an odd, puzzled glance at the White Linen Nurse, and right there before her startled eyes she saw every vestige of human expression fade out of his face as it faded out sometimes in the operating-room when in the midst of some ghastly, unforeseen emergency that left all his assistants blinking helplessly around them, his whole wonderful scientific mind seemed to break up like some chemical compound into all its meek component parts,—­only to reorganize itself suddenly with some amazing explosive action that fairly knocked the breath out of all on-lookers—­but was pretty apt to knock the breath into the body of the person most concerned.

When the Senior Surgeon’s scientific mind had reorganized itself to meet this emergency he found himself infinitely more surprised at the particular type of explosion that had taken place than any other person could possibly have been.

“Miss Malgregor!” he gasped.  “Speaking of preferring ’domestic service,’ as you call it,—­speaking of preferring domestic service to—­nursing,—­how would you like to consider—­to consider a position of—­of—­well,—­call it a—­a position of general—­heartwork—­for a family of two?  Myself and the Little Girl here being the ’two,’—­as you understand,” he added briskly.

“Why, I think it would be grand!” beamed the White Linen Nurse.

A trifle mockingly the Senior Surgeon bowed his appreciation.  “Your frank and immediate—­enthusiasm,” he murmured, “is more, perhaps, than I had dared to expect.”

“But it would be grand!” said the White Linen Nurse.  Before the odd little smile in the Senior Surgeon’s eyes her white forehead puckered all up with perplexity.  Then with her mind still thoroughly unawakened, her heart began suddenly to pitch and lurch like a frightened horse whose rider has not even remotely sensed as yet the approach of an unwonted footfall.  “What—­did—­you—­say?” she repeated worriedly.  “Just exactly what was it that you said?  I guess—­maybe—­I didn’t understand just exactly what it was that you said.”

The smile in the Senior Surgeon’s eyes deepened a little.  “I asked you,” he said, “how you would like to consider a position of ’general heartwork’ in a family of two,—­myself and the Little Girl here being the ‘two.’  ‘Heartwork’ was what I said.  Yes,—­’Heartwork,’—­not housework!”

“Heartwork?” faltered the White Linen Nurse. “_ Heartwork?_ I don’t know what you mean, sir.”  Like two falling rose-petals her eyelids fluttered down across her affrighted eyes.  “Oh, when I shut my eyes, sir, and just hear your voice, I know of course, sir, that it’s some sort of a joke.  But when I look right at you—­I—­don’t know—­what it is!”

“Open your eyes and keep them open then till you do find out!” suggested the Senior Surgeon bluntly.

Defiantly once again the blue eyes and the gray eyes challenged each other.

“‘Heartwork’ was what I said,” persisted the Senior Surgeon.  Palpably his narrowing eyes shut out all meaning but one definite one.