Katherine started. "Mrs. Slawson?"
"Yes. I've made it out that she's rather a specialist, when it comes to life, and that sort of thing. Really, I think it might pay you to consult her. By the way, she asked me to say that you 'can heave the perserve trouble off'n your chest.' She is going to see you get a 'rule,' or something."
"Oh, good! That is a load off one's mind. And, speaking of chests, it can't be very good for yours, to be doing heavy gymnastics, such as climbing porch-posts. Can it?"
"Why not? My chest's O.K. Nothing in the least 's the matter with my chest."
"Oh,—I thought——" blundered Katherine awkwardly.
"What?"
"Somebody told me—I don't recollect who—that you had a 'spot' or something, on your lung. I'm so sorry."
Dr. Ballard flung back his head with a low, boyish chuckle.
"Somebody's got hold of the wrong case. My nerves, mixed with another chap's bellows. No, I'm not up here on account of any one spot—it's the whole rundown machine that needs repairing. I'm used up. Tired out."
"Tired out—waiting for patients?" asked Katherine mischievously.