"It is epidemic," she said, "and you have been keeping this from me. How long since it began?"
"The worst is over," he answered, with something of the old heartiness that made the sick take courage even in their hour of darkest trial. But he was reluctant to talk much of conditions in Duck Town; and presently, during a lull in the conversation, Miss Eastman laid the pieces of the broken miniature on the table before him.
"Was this David's mother?" she asked.
As the man took up the two parts of the broken portrait he glanced apprehensively toward the top of his desk. The picture which used to stand there was gone.
"Where did you get this?" he questioned.
"As soon as they get into trousers they get into mischief," she replied, and again she asked whether that was a picture of the little boy's mother.
With gentle fingers Dr. Redfield fitted the parts of the picture together, sorrowfully shook his head over them, and then, as a wan smile creased his tired face, he said:—
"David asked me if she was my mother. Has the little rogue been claiming her for his?"
Miss Eastman slowly answered: "She does look a little like—"
"Yes," the doctor interrupted, "more than that, I should say—more than a little like David's mother. From the first time I saw that poor dear woman I thought so, and yet I was never quite sure that my fancy had not created the resemblance. It was an unaccountable likeness, and yet so strong a one that it meant much, very much to me."