“Here’s a letter for you,” said Doris.  “I thought that perhaps you might want to have it as soon as possible.”

“Thanks, Miss Gray.  I reckon it’s from Jim Bailey.  I—­” Pete tore off the end of the envelope with trembling fingers.  Little Ruth watched him curiously.  Doris had turned away and was looking out across the city.  A tiny hand tugged at her sleeve.  “Make Pete play wif me,” said Ruth.  “My cow’s all broke.”

Pete glanced up, slowly slid the unread letter back into the envelope and tucked it into his shirt.  “You bet we’ll find that cow if we have to comb every draw on the ranch!  Hello, pardner!  Here’s her ole head.  She was sure enough investigatin’ that there haystack.”

Doris turned away.  There was a tense throbbing in her throat as she moved back to the doorway.  Despite herself she glanced back for an instant.  The dark head and the golden head were together over the wonderful puzzle picture.  Just why Pete should look up then could hardly be explained by either himself or Doris.  He waved his hand boyishly.  Doris turned and walked rapidly down the hallway.  Her emotion irritated her.  Why should she feel so absolutely silly and sentimental because a patient, who really meant nothing to her aside from her profession, should choose to play puzzle picture with a crippled child, that he might forget for a while his very identity and those terrible happenings?  Had he not said so?  And yet he had put aside the letter that might mean much to him, that he might make Little Ruth forget her pain in searching for a dismembered pasteboard cow.

Doris glanced in as she passed Pete’s room.  Two men were standing there, expressing in their impatient attitudes that they had expected to find some one in the room.  She knew who they were—­men from the police station—­for she had seen them before.

“You were looking for Mr. Annersley?” she asked.

“Yes, mam.  We got a little business—­”

“He’s out on the veranda, playing puzzle picture with a little girl patient.”

“Well, we got a puzzle picture for him—­” began one of the men, but Doris, her eyes flashing, interrupted him.

“Dr. Andover left word that he does not want Mr. Annersley to see visitors without his permission.”

“Reckon we can see him, miss.  I had a talk with Doc Andover.”

“Then let me call Mr. Annersley, please.  There are so many—­patients out there.”

“All right, miss.”

Doris took Pete’s place as she told him.  Little Ruth entered a demurrer, although she liked Doris.  “Pete knew all about forces and cows.  He must come wight back . . .”

“What a beautiful bossy!” said Doris as Ruth rearranged the slightly disjointed cow.

“Dat a cow,” said Ruth positively.  “Pete says dat a cow!”

“And what a wonderful pony!”

“Dat a force, Miss Dowis.  Pete say dat a force.”