“Playing!” said Frank reproachfully.
“Well, I hardly mean that, my dear boy,” said the doctor softly; “but all this is so strange and—well, yes—risky.”
“Yes, it is risky,” said Frank sadly, “but—”
“Yes, I know,” said the doctor, interrupting; “I do think of why we are doing it, and I can’t help shrinking a bit and doubting my nerve to carry it all through. If I break down in any way I shall sacrifice the liberty if not the lives of you all. It is this that makes me feel doubts about my nerve.”
“I have none whatever,” said Frank quietly. “You know how often you have talked to me about the operations you have performed.”
“Well, yes, I have talked to you a good deal both before and after some of them. Harry and I always opened out our hearts to one another, and when he went away he asked me to make you his substitute—to take his place with you.”
“So like Hal,” said Frank softly. “Well, and so you have.”
“Have I, lad? Well, I have tried, and it has been very pleasant to have you come to me to chat over your experiences and successes and failures, and to tell you mine.”
“You have made more of a man of me,” said Frank softly; “often and often when I have felt that I was only an ignorant, blundering boy.”
“I never saw much of the ignorance or blundering,” said the doctor quietly. “You were always too enthusiastic over your studies for that.”