“Only to make an examination,” he said, gently. “I will not hurt him.”
Oh, how grateful it was to her heart to find that he cared—cared about hurting Bobby’s body, and cared about hurting her feelings! As the girl left the room and walked down the wide and beautifully clean and bright hall, she was conscious for the first time since childhood of being helped and taken care of, and of having her load of responsibility shared by another.
At the end of about twenty minutes of pleasant talk with Mrs. Mills, a pretty little nurse, with snowy cap and apron, appeared, and with the manner of suppressed agitation, which usually characterized in this establishment those who were the bearers of messages from “The Doctor,” she summoned Ethel to an audience with that august individual in his private office.
When Ethel knocked at the door of this attractive room, it was promptly opened from within, and Dr. Hubert, after having closed the door behind her, led her to a chair and sat down facing her. He then began asking her very searching and detailed particulars as to the fall which Bobby had had, and, when he had ended these, he added:
“And, now, you would like to ask me some questions, would you not? You want to know the result of my examination?”
“If you want to tell me,” she said. “I am willing to know as much or as little as you wish.”
“You have confidence in me, then?”
“Oh, I have, indeed,” said Ethel, “absolute confidence!”
“That is good!—but, this confidence—when did it come to you? From what you have heard of me, or from what you have seen?”
“A good deal from what I have heard, but more from what I have seen. I knew you were a great doctor, but now I know you are good and kind.”