it most degrading for a daughter of his to be in such a miserable place.
Of course it is really very clean, Aunt Jennie, because Yves has been
trained on a man o' war, where the men spend nearly all of their time
scrubbing things. I have seen them so often at Newport, where they wash
down the decks even when it is pouring cats and dogs. The poor dear was
rather red in the face, by which I recognized the fact that he was
holding himself in for fear of an explosion.

But you know that there never was a better man than Dad, and he got all
over this in a moment. Of course he had come with the firm intention of
explaining to the poor doctor what a fine mess he had made of things, but
as soon as he saw that poor, pinched face on the pillow he changed
entirely. Quite a look of alarm came over his countenance, and he was
certainly awfully sorry. I have an idea that people who have never been
very ill, and who have never seen many sick people possess a little
egotism which it takes experience to drive out of them. He had surely
never thought that poor Dr. Grant would look so ill, and his bit of
temper melted away at once. He forced himself to take the hand that was
nearest to him.

"I hope you are doing very well," he said, with a queer accent of
timidity that was really very foreign to his nature.

"They are taking splendid care of me," answered Dr. Grant, with an effort
that made him cough.

Daddy smiled at him, in a puzzled sort of way, and then turned to the
child's couch, gazing at it curiously. Mr. Barnett stood at his side.

"He doesn't look as ill as..."