The announcement stated that Doctor Emmanuel de Vendôme, the celebrated healer, recently a famous surgeon in the French army, would be at Hotel Royal for a few weeks, where he would give examinations absolutely free to all.
“I wonder—” began Blue, and thereby started a train of thought which raced through his mind for the next busy hour. How he succeeded in delivering his papers on the proper doorsteps is surprising, considering what air castles he builded during that time. But he was free at last to rush home to Doodles, whom in a few minutes he managed to work up to an excitement far exceeding his own.
It was decided, long before Mrs. Stickney came, that Doodles should go for a free examination, and although the mother could not feel as sanguine of success as the boys did, still she gave a ready permission, Blue arguing that it was not going to cost “a lonesome cent.”
The next day Blue hastened home from the afternoon session, bringing Joseph with him, and the trio started without delay. At the hotel, however, they found a crowd ahead of them, and they were forced to wait until nearly six o’clock before being admitted to the imposing presence of the uniformed physician.
To their surprise the examination was slight, consisting only of a few questions and a superficial fingering of the lad’s back. It was over so quickly that the boys left the room in rather a dazed whirl, realizing only that the epauleted stranger had asserted that Doodles could be helped and probably cured, and that he was to have his first treatment on the morrow at a charge of five dollars.
The mother looked grave over the doctor’s fee; but she finally yielded to Blue’s urging, and Doodles went to bed to dream of marching, actually marching, in line with gayly-uniformed soldiers. Thomas Fitzpatrick and Joseph, and Christarchus were there, with epaulets upon their shoulders,—and then, just as he was screwing his head round to see his own shoulders, came the order, “Forward!” and he awoke.
The following afternoon, in the hour before school-closing, just as the small boy was feeling the slow progress of the moments before it would be time for Blue, who should knock at the door but Thomas Fitzpatrick! Presently Doodles was talking of the hopes that were thronging his heart.
“Wouldn’t it be beautiful if I could walk again?” Doodles went on enthusiastically, his fair face pink with excitement, and his brown eyes luminous with hope.
The policeman’s lips parted—and came together. Then he said quietly:—
“It would, sure!”