haunting shame for Doctor Ralph at the memory of the wild Christmas he
had planned to spend with Griffin and Edwards.

With the coming of the broad shadows which lay among the stiff,
ice-fringed spruces like iris velvet, Doctor Ralph's nieces and nephews
went flying out to help old Asher feed the stock. By the quiet fire the
Doctor beckoned Ralph.

"Suppose, my boy," he said, "suppose you take a look at the little lad's
leg here. I've sometimes wondered what you would think of it."

Coloring a little at his father's deferential tone Ralph turned the
stocking back from the pitiful shrunken limb and bent over it, his dark
face keen and grave. And now with the surgeon uppermost, Roger fancied
Doctor Ralph's handsome eyes were nothing like so tired. Save for the
crackle of the fire and the tick of the great clock, there was silence
in the firelit room and presently Roger caught something in Doctor
Ralph's thoughtful face that made his heart leap wildly.

"An operation," said the young Doctor suddenly--and halted, meeting his
father's eyes significantly.

"You are sure!" insisted the old Doctor slowly. "In my day, it was
impossible--quite impossible."

"Times change," said the younger man. "I have performed such an
operation successfully myself. I feel confident, sir--" but Roger had
caught his hand now with a sob that echoed wildly through the quiet
room.