At that moment Millard's valet, Robert, in the capacity of pioneer and pilot, knocked at the door. When Millard opened it he said, "Dr. Gunstone, sir," and stood aside to let the physician pass.
Gunstone made a little hurried bow to Millard, and, without waiting for an introduction, bowed with his usual deference to Mrs. Martin. "Good-morning, madam; is this the little sufferer?" at the same time making a hurried bow of courtesy to Phillida as a stranger; but as he did so, he arrested himself and said in the fatherly tone he habitually used with his young women patients, "How do you do? You came to see me last year with—"
"My mother, Mrs. Callender," said Phillida.
"Yes, yes; and how is your mother, my dear?"
"Quite well, thank you, doctor."
The doctor dispatched these courtesies with business-like promptness, and then settled himself to an examination of little Tommy.
"This is diphtheria," he said; "you will want a physician in the neighborhood. Let's see, whom have you?" This to Millard.
Millard turned to his aunt. She looked at Phillida. "There's Dr. Smith around the corner," said Phillida.
Dr. Gunstone said, "Dr. Smith?" inquiringly to himself. But the name did not seem to recall any particular Smith.
"And Dr. Beswick in Seventeenth street," said Phillida.