“Poor kids,” Allison said, with a sigh.

“Tell me about ’em,” pleaded Doctor Jack “Tell me everything you know about ’em, especially Juliet.”

“I don’t know much,” replied the other, “for I came back here only a few months ago, and when I went abroad, they were merely enfants terribles imperfectly controlled by a pair of doting parents.”

However, he gladly told what he knew of the varied exploits of the twins, and his eager listener absorbed every word.  At length when Allison could think of no more, and the afternoon shadows grew long, they went in.

Consigning his patient to the care of the nurse, the Doctor went down into the garden, to walk back and forth upon the long paths, gaze, open-mouthed, down the road, and moon, like the veriest schoolboy, over Juliet’s blue eyes.

Her pagan simplicity, her frank boyishness, and her absolute unconsciousness of self, appealed to him irresistibly.  “The dear kid,” he said to himself, fondly; “the blessed little kid!  Wonder how old she is!”

Then he remembered that Allison had told him the twins were almost twenty-one, but Juliet seemed absurdly young for her years.  “The world will take her,” he sighed to himself, “and change her in a little while so even her own brother won’t know her.  She’ll lace, and wear high heels and follow the latest fashion whether it suits her or not, and touch up her pretty cheeks with rouge, twist her hair into impossible coiffures, and learn all the wicked ways of the world.”

The wavy masses of tawny hair, the innocent blue eyes, as wide and appealing as a child’s, the clear, rosy skin, and the parted scarlet lips—­all these would soon be spoiled by the thousand deceits of fashion.

“And I can’t help it,” he thought, sadly.  Then his face brightened.  “By George,” he said aloud, “I’m only twenty-eight—­wonder if the kid could learn to stand me around the house.”  He laughed, from sheer joy.  “I’ll have a try for her,” he continued to himself.  “Me for Juliet, and, if the gods are kind, Juliet for me!”

His reflections were interrupted by the arrival of the station hack.  He instantly surmised that the man who hurried toward the house was Colonel Kent, and, on the veranda, intercepted him.

“Colonel Kent?”

“Yes.  Doctor—?

“Middlekauffer, for purposes of introduction.  For purposes of conversation, ‘Doctor Jack,’ or just plain ‘Jack.’  Never cared much for handles to names.  You got my wire?”

“Yes.  Who sent you here?”

“Forbes.  Down here on the fifth.  Met him out in the next State, at an operation.  He told me to come, as my business was the impossible.  Told me you’d stand for it, don’t you know, and all that sort of thing?”

“I’m very glad.  How is he?”

“Doing very nicely, all things considered.”

“Is there a chance?” the Colonel cried, eagerly; “a real chance?”

“My dear man, until amputation is the only thing to be done, there’s always a chance.  Personally, I’m very hopeful, though I’ve been called a dreamer more than once.  But we’ve got him chirked up a lot, and he’s getting his nerve back, and this morning I thought I detected a slight improvement, though I was afraid to tell him so.  We’ve all got to work for him and work like the devil at that.”