“Are you sure? Will it hurt her?
Will it last?”
“Very sure,” said Dr. Carrel. “Calm
yourself, lad. Her case is not so unusual; only
more aggravated than usual. I’ve examined
her from crown to sole, and she’s straight and
sound. You have started her permanent cure; all
you need is to keep on exactly as you are going, and
limit her activities so that in her joy she doesn’t
overdo and tire herself. You are her doctor.
I congratulate you!”
Dr. Carrel came forward, holding out his hand, and
Mickey took it with the one of his that was not gripping
Peaches and said, “Aw-a-ah!” but he was
a radiant boy.
“Thank you sir,” he said. “Thank
everybody. But thank you especial, over and over.
I don’t know how I’ll ever square up with
you, but I’ll pay you all I have to start on.
I’ve some money I’ve saved from my wages,
and I’ll be working harder and earning more
all the time.”
“But Mickey,” protested the surgeon, “you
don’t owe me anything. I didn’t operate!
You had the work done before I arrived. I would
have come sooner, but I knew she couldn’t be
operated, even if her case demanded it, until she
had gained more strength——”
He was watching Mickey’s face and he read aright,
so he continued: “I like that suggestion
you made in your letter very much. Something ’coming
in steadily’ is a good thing for any man to
have. For the next three months, suppose you
send me that two dollars a week you offered me if I’d
come. How would that be?”
Mickey gathered Peaches in his arms and looked over
his shoulder as he started on the homeward trip.
“Thank you sir,” he said tersely.
“That would be square.”
