He came for them at six o'clock and took them out to dinner with him, ordering the dishes so carefully and with such sweet regard for their youthful appetites—but after all, they could not eat, for the shadow of the operation was settling upon them. Yet how much better it was to be here in the big city within reach of father's kindly hand than to be away off in the manse quivering with the anxiety of what they did not know and could not guess, with only telegraph wires to link them each to each?
It seemed MacCammon would never be done with that sickening apple pie, but after an endless time they were really tripping softly, breathlessly, along the hall of the hospital in the wake of the "rubber-soled nurse," as Rosalie naughtily christened her. And there was father sitting alone in a white room, his eyes bandaged closely. He knew they were there before they spoke, and held out his hands to them, warmly impulsive. And they sat on the arms of his chair and petted the opposite sides of his head, and talked quietly and sensibly, as if the operation were nothing at all.
But almost immediately the door opened again, and a man— Yes, a minister— That blessed bishop, of course—MacCammon glared at him— How long the fellow was holding Doris' hand!— Right before her father—and Doris was letting him!— Well, couldn't he see that Rosalie was there, too—and a stranger?
"Your father said you would be here, so I stayed to speak to you."
"Yes, and I came, too, Bishop," said Rosalie brightly. "You must not overlook me."
MacCammon blessed her for the words. For the bishop dropped Doris' hand hurriedly and turned to her— What in the world could the church be thinking of, to have bishops as young as that?
"I do not believe he's as old as I am, and I am not old at all," thought MacCammon resentfully. "And they call him a father in the church. What are we coming to, anyhow?"
Doris was back at her father's side now, where she belonged, and MacCammon was being introduced to the bishop. They sized each other up very frankly.
"I'll bet he resents me as much as I do him, that's some satisfaction," MacCammon thought with boyish relish. "And I brought her up, too, all that long way—that will cut."
They did not stay very long—a gentle movement of the rubber-soled one's eyebrow hurried their departure.