"That's it—Phoenix. And when it's going to die it lights a fire and sits down upon it and another springs up from the ashes."
"But I don't see how that applies to the Major."
"No-o?" queried Miss Marty, dubiously. "Well, not in every particular; but the point is, there's only one at a time."
"The same might be said," urged the Doctor, delicately, "of other individual members of the Town Council; with qualifications, of course."
"And somehow I feel—I can't help a foreboding—that if ever we lose him it will be in some such way."
"Miss Marty!" The Doctor stood up, with horror-stricken face.
"There, now! You may call me fanciful, but I can't help it. And you've spilled the Fra Angelico! Let me pour you out another glassful."
"We must all die," answered the Doctor inconsequently, not yet master of himself.
"Except a few Bible characters," said Miss Marty, filling his glass. "But what the town would do without him I can't think. In a sense he is the town."
A moment before the Doctor had all but denied it; but now, overcome by the thought of a world without the Major, he hid his face. For a moment, if but in thought, he had been disloyal to his friend, his hero!