“The best right in the world, madame—a brother’s right.” To the coachman: “Drive on!” and the carriage rolled away.
A passing glimpse of a tiny, fever-flushed face, wild, unconscious, restless eyes, and lips that moved continually, was the last madame saw of the “delicate little creature” she had “adopted” for a nurse-girl.
When she had recovered breath and collected her scattered wits, she put on her shawl and bonnet, and went down town to the office.
“Dolf, what’s that young doctor’s name, do you know?”
“Name? Never noticed, ’pon my word. Why?”
“It’s out there on his door, or somewhere, isn’t it? Just step out and see, please.”
“Leblanc,” said “Dolf,” returning.
“Leblanc—Leblanc ... yes, and that’s the child’s name, now I recall it. Do you know, he’s her brother!”
The next place madame visited was the jeweler’s. She was very glad she had not purchased the watered silk or the Brussels carpet, and that the silver service had not yet been sent up to the house.