In unmistakable friendliness his sister-in-law extended her hand to him.
"Good-by, Lendicott, old man!" she said. "And good luck to you!" A little slyly out of her shrewd gray eyes, she glanced up sideways at him. "You've got the devil's own temper, Lendicott dear," she teased, "and two or three other vices probably, and if rumor speaks the truth you've run a-muck more than once in your life,—but there's one thing I will say for you,—though it prove you a dear Stupid: you never were over-quick to suspect that any woman could possibly be in love with you!"
"To what woman do you particularly refer?" mocked the Senior Surgeon impatiently.
Quite brazenly to her own heart which never yet apparently had stirred the laces that enshrined it, his sister-in-law pointed with persistent banter.
"Maybe I refer to—myself," she laughed, "and maybe to the only—other lady present!"
"Oh!" gasped the White Linen Nurse.
"You do me much honor, Agnes," bowed the Senior Surgeon. Quite resolutely he held his gaze from following the White Linen Nurse's quickly averted face.
A little oddly for an instant the older woman's glance hung on his. "More honor perhaps than you think, Lendicott Faber!" she said, and kept right on smiling.
"Eh?" jerked the Senior Surgeon. Restively he turned to the White Linen
Nurse.
Very flushingly on the steps the White Linen Nurse knelt arguing with the Little Crippled Girl.