"Sometimes I think my hip gets worse," Joy continued; "I have seen several doctors now, and they all say the same, that I must have patience; but not one of them will say there is the faintest hope that I shall ever walk again."
"They cannot tell, Joy—clever men though they all are. Uncle Jasper has written to me about a London surgeon whom he has heard much talk of lately, he wants me to send for him to see you."
"Shall you, mother?" Joy asked. "I don't suppose he could do me any good, and his fee would be a large one, I expect."
"Yes, but Uncle Jasper says he will gladly pay it."
"How good he is to me!" Joy cried, her face aglow with gratitude as she spoke.
The great London surgeon came and examined the patient. Though she had schooled herself to the contemplation of a life of inactivity and suffering with resignation, Joy could not help a faint ray of hope lingering in her heart that some day her injured hip might get better. After his examination, the London surgeon consulted with the two A— doctors who had lately attended the little girl; then, much to Joy's surprise, the stranger returned to her room with Mrs. Wallis, and taking a chair by her side, entered into conversation with her. He was a big, powerful-looking man, with a plain, rugged countenance which was singularly attractive, and a pair of keen, grey eyes, that had looked on much suffering and sorrow, and yet retained a smile in their kindly depths. He told her he had young daughters of his own, and asked her how she would like to go to London.
"I don't know. I'm not likely to go there," Joy answered, soberly; then she asked: "Please, doctor, what do you think of me?"
"I think you're a plucky little girl, and so I'm going to speak out and tell you what I have already told your mother. I believe that if you undergo a certain operation, you will eventually be able to walk; but you will always be slightly lame. Now, what I want to explain to you is this—the operation cannot be performed here, it must be done in a hospital where you can have treatment suitable for your case. You have a brave spirit, I am sure," he added hastily, as he noticed the look of dismay and shrinking on her face, "or I should not have spoken so plainly. Will you come to London, and go into a hospital, as I suggest?"
"Mother, what do you say?" Joy asked, looking at Mrs. Wallis, who stood at the foot of the bed observing her anxiously.
"You must decide, my dear," was the faltering reply.