"There is a chance that the operation may not be successful," the doctor said, gravely, "but I am very hopeful about it, myself."
"Who would do it—the operation, I mean?" Joy inquired, timidly.
"I should," he rejoined.
The little girl looked at him with manifest doubt, but as she met the glance of his kindly eyes, she recalled how gentle had been the touch of his big, strong hands, and a feeling of confidence in him took root in her heart.
"I should be quite alone in the hospital?" she questioned. "Mother would not be there?"
"No, but she could be near you; she could get lodgings close to the hospital. You would see her often. What do you say?" —and he smiled encouragingly.
"I say that if you think you can make me well enough to walk again, I will let you do anything to me. I don't mind any pain, or how long it takes, or—"
"Oh, you won't feel anything, my dear child! You have suffered these last few months with this poor hip of yours, as I trust you will never suffer again. Your mother will bring you to London, and place you in my care. I shall do my best for you, you may depend, and the result will be in God's hands."
The eyes of the little invalid and the great surgeon met again, this time in a long look of perfect understanding; and the smile which illuminated Joy's face was very confident and bright as she exclaimed hopefully:
"I shall not mind being lame if only I shall be able to walk again!"