"If you ever get to Heaven you won't have any crown at all. Just a hypodermic needle to go around sticking into poor angels that trust you, and you'll have crutches to play on 'stead of a harp."
"Well, come on, girls. You have had enough. Don't let him soak into your dispositions."
The girls put out soft and timid hands to say good-by, and the old man took them bashfully, blushing beneath their friendly eyes.
"If you are still alive, I shall see you Wednesday, but I have hopes," said the doctor.
"It would be a pleasure to die just to get away from you," shouted the old man after him.
"Doctor, that was terrible," said Doris. "How could you do it? The poor sick old man!"
The doctor only laughed.
"You may as well make up your mind to sitting with me," he said to Rosalie, helping her into the front seat. "You do not seem absolutely essential to their happiness, do you?"
"Not absolutely, no. But I tell you right now if you begin on me as you talked to the old man, I shall fall right out and get run over. Like him, I think death is preferable."