"A severe case of tumour, and it must be removed. But, once removed, she may enjoy good health. I should have little fear of its return."
"Then the former opinion was a mistake," said Mrs. Heavitree.
"Yes."
"You don't know who she went to see?"
"She told me. Not a medical man at all, in fact. A passing quack—nothing more. Extraordinary how people will take the opinion of anybody and everybody on such a question!"
"Will she submit to the operation?" asked Mrs. Heavitree, and Marigold's face asked the same question eloquently.
"At first she said not. I reasoned the matter with her. Some measure of risk must exist, of course, in such a case; but there is every probability that she would bear it well, and would enjoy excellent health afterwards. If she goes on in her present state, life cannot be lengthened many months. A year or two at most."
"And she gave in?"
"Entirely. She will, of course, go to the hospital. I shall see her again before I leave; and I have promised that you and her daughter will make all arrangements."
"I don't know how to thank you, sir," said Marigold, with difficulty. "It is so very very kind!"