At the end of ten minutes, Dr. Vandegrift removed the cup, took away the handles, and bade Rose sit erect for a minute. Then he applied the cup to the other eye, gave her the handles, in reversed order, he explained, and repeated the process. Ten minutes later, he removed the apparatus, raised the blinds and announced that that was all for this time.
Betty handed him three dollars, then helped Rose into her scarlet reefer jacket and handed her her tam-o’-shanter.
“Thank you,” he said absently, adding: “Miss Rose responds to the treatment wonderfully—marvelously. I am the more glad to be able to tell you this because I discovered to-day after taking the cup from the right eye and throwing a violet ray upon the retina, that you came only just in the nick of time. Miss Rose’s eyes were just ready to deteriorate. The left one had, in fact, begun. I won’t say that if you had not come until a week later, it would have been doubtful; but two weeks hence, I shouldn’t have dared make any promises. Three weeks later I could only have sent you home. Treatment would have been wasted. Shall I look for you at the same time next week?”
“Yes indeed, sir,” responded Betty solemnly, scarcely able to contemplate what might have been.
“I wonder if you would mind, Dr. Vandegrift,” she added hesitatingly, “my saying to Mr. Appleton——”
“My dear Miss Betty, if you are going to talk that way this interview will be the last,” he interrupted very severely. “You gave me your word.”
“I know. But—he’s the school-master,” said Betty meekly.
“I thought you understood,” he said with sadness that was almost bitter.
“O, I do!” cried Betty. “Of course I won’t. And I shouldn’t have asked you that. I won’t again, I promise you. It’s nothing, of course. And when I think that Rose will be cured——”
He smiled kindly.