"I suppose it's all up, doctor?"
I started violently, and let go his hand. The words were perhaps not altogether beyond the capacity of an infant; but the air of manly resignation with which they were uttered was astonishing. For more reasons than one, I hesitated.
"You need not be afraid to tell me the truth," said the baby, with a wistful smile; "I'm not afraid to hear it."
"Well—well, you're pretty bad," I stammered.
"Ah! thank you," the child replied gratefully. "How many hours do you give me?"
The baby's gravity took my breath away. He spoke with an old-world courtesy and the ingenuous stateliness of an infant prince.
"It may not be quite hopeless," I murmured.
Willy shook his head, the pretty, wan features distorted by a quaint grimace.
"I suppose I'm too young to rally," he said quietly, and closed his eyes.
Presently he re-opened them, and added: