“Of course you said ‘no’?” observed Billie.
“I did. It’s my turn now. His turn may come later. I explained to him that any excitement or sudden recognition immediately after the operation might prove fatal or disastrous, and he took himself off. But I consider that Phoebe’s father is practically identified.”
“Is he conscious?” asked Billie with subdued excitement.
“Not only conscious, but, my dear child, what do you think? Speaking German; not English.”
Billie gasped.
“That’s why you wanted Alberdina.”
“Yes, I needed someone who could speak with him, and a servant would be excellent; better, really, than an educated German. Just now the man’s mind is in terrible confusion. He is back in another country somewhere, but he is holding his own, and if he can get over the shock which must come when he links his past with his present, I believe we need have no fear for his reason; but it will be a pretty ticklish moment.”
The doctor looked down into Billie’s eager, earnest face, and his eyes were filled with admiration.
“Oh, doctor,” she exclaimed, “you are so wonderful. Next to Papa, the most wonderful man I have ever met. Richard and I——”
“What!” interrupted the doctor, smiling, “do you mean to say that that young whipper snapper, with his Gypsy notions and his clever tongue, has already photographed himself on your mind? I should never have bathed and bound his wounds if I had guessed it.”