Marcus saw that the inventor was in earnest. He coughed, and hesitated what to say.
But, before he could say anything, Pet had kissed her father, and said "Good-night," in a faint voice, to the guest, and already had her hand on the knob of the door which led to her little sleeping room.
"Remember, darling--all the blankets, and your shawl. To-morrow morning you will wake up bright and happy, and ready to enjoy a little surprise that I shall have for you." He jerked his thumb toward the machine.
Pet understood him, and smiled sadly. "You need bed more than I, father," said she.
"Nonsense, child!" replied the old man, with a hollow laugh. "It is not for the patient to prescribe to the physician. There, good-night, now."
He kissed her again with more tenderness. "Remember," said he, "there is a little surprise in store for you to-morrow."
Pet said, "Heaven bless you, father," murmured another "Good-night," and disappeared within her sanctuary, closing the door after her.
"Now, Mr. Wilkeson," said the inventor, "we can finish our conversation."
His voice sounded like a voice from the tomb.