Herman Medfield's eyes opened quickly. "I want him here!" he said sharply.
Dr. Carmon's thought followed the look swiftly. "It isn't the boy, but it's something about him. I'll see the boy."
He rang the bell. "I'd get to bed right away if I were you."
It was Aunt Jane who came leisurely in, glancing at the two men. "Miss Canfield's at dinner. She'll come pretty quick—if you need her."
"We don't need her. He's to go to bed for a while." The doctor nodded to Herman Medfield, who had got up from his chair, and was standing beside him.
The millionaire in his blue silk robe with the velvet girdle and tassel was a stately figure; and, for the second time, Aunt Jane had a lively sense of Dr. Carmon's short, uncouthness and rumpled clothes—there was a large grease spot on the front of his vest. Her mind made a quick note of the spot while her eyes travelled placidly to Herman Medfield.
"I'm glad you've made up your mind," she said pleasantly.
He was moving toward the door of his bedroom. He stopped. "It isn't my mind. It's the doctor's mind that's made up," he replied suavely.
Dr. Carmon watched him and smiled a little and Miss Canfield, coming in the door, wondered what Dr. Carmon's smile meant.
Aunt Jane and the doctor returned to the office.... She faced him.