He turned to his hostess and her friend.  While they talked together Burns regarded Amy Mathewson, his long-time associate, with renewed wonder, and presently found himself addressing her from an entirely new point of view.  This fair girl with the graceful head and the glowing blue eyes could not possibly be the sedate young woman who was accustomed to hand him instruments and sutures, ligate arteries, and attend to various minor matters from the other side of his operating-table.  He wondered why he had never before noticed how much real individuality she possessed, nor how really attractive she was of face and person.  He decided afresh that his wife was the most wonderful woman in the world, to be able to see at a glance that which had escaped his attention for so long, and he congratulated Miss Mathewson, in his mind, on the possibilities he for the first time saw ahead of her.  Clearly after all she was a woman, not a machine!

The party went out to dinner, and Burns looked to see his friend enjoy, as he thought he must, the cleverly planned and deliciously cooked meal which came, perfectly served, upon the table.  It was such a dinner as he himself delighted in, unostentatious but satisfying, with certain touches, here and there, calculated to tempt the most capricious palate,—­such as he shrewdly judged Leaver, in his presumably lowered state of vitality, to possess.

But to his surprise and dismay the guest barely touched most of the dishes, and ate so sparingly of others that Burns felt himself, with his hearty, normal appetite, a gormandizer.  Nobody made any comment whatever upon Dr. Leaver’s lack of appetite, but all three noted, with growing concern, that there were moments when he seemed to keep up with an effort.  Instinctively the others made short work of the later courses, and felt a decided relief when it became possible to leave the table and return to the living-room.

By a bit of clever management Ellen was able to put the guest’s tall form into a corner of the big davenport, among the blue pillows, where he could receive more support than was possible in any other place.  After a little he seemed less fatigued, and charmed them all with his pleasant discourse.  Burns himself was soon summoned to the office.  He would not allow Miss Mathewson to take up her duties there, though she followed him to offer eagerly to run home and change her attire.

“Not a bit of it,” Burns assured her, in the hall.  He regarded her with mischief in his eyes.  “Cinderella isn’t due at home till the clock strikes twelve,” he whispered.  “Besides,—­the Prince isn’t in his usual form to-night.  He may need her services as nurse at any minute, judging by his appearance.”