“Hetty! What——?”
She broke away from him, came swiftly across the room to his father.
“Professor!” she said. “You were once in practice as a doctor, weren’t you?”
The twinkling eyes went grave as they met hers. There was unmistakable seriousness in her question.
“Yes, my dear——”
“Then I want you to examine me right here, Professor!” she said. “Tell me if I’ve got fever!”
She met the amazed eyes of the other men with a look which announced that she knew her own business.
Without a word the Professor lifted up her wrist and felt her pulse. “Now show me your tongue!” She obeyed. He nodded his head, and placed his hand upon her brow. His eyes plunged into hers for one second of searching scrutiny and then he nodded his head again, satisfied. “My dear,” he said, “I haven’t a thermometer here, but I should say you are absolutely normal in every way. Your pulse is a shade rapid, perhaps.”
The girl took a long breath.
“Thank you, Professor,” she said, simply. She turned to the others. “You heard what the Professor said? There’s no fever about me. Now—listen! I want to tell you something. I’ve been waiting to tell you ever since we sat down to dinner—and now I must tell you! And you mustn’t laugh!—Poppa, this is serious!”