He was looking at her thoughtfully. "How old is she?"
"Three," said Aunt Jane, "three—going on four."
"Good God!"
She nodded. "Yes, He's good. But somebody's got to look after Susie."
He waited a minute. Then he spoke, almost hesitatingly. "I don't suppose that money would do—any good?"
She shook her head. "I don't know what'll do good. Dr. Carmon's got to find out and do it. He generally does—when things get too bad."
There was a knock on the door.
"Your dinner, I guess," said Aunt Jane.
But it was Preston—with a box. When he saw Medfield's eyes he half retreated. Aunt Jane held out her hand.