At the mention of Doctor Bayless, Papa’s countenance took on an expression of relief, which was noted by Franz, who turned away, saying:
“Wal, git your doctor, then, an’ the quicker the better. But mind this: I don’t appear till I’m sure it’s safe. Ye kin git yer doctor, but when he’s here, I’ll happen ter be out.”
It was Mamma who summoned Doctor Bayless, and he came once, twice, and again.
His patient passed, under his care, from delirium to stupor, from fever to coolness and calm, and then to returning consciousness. As he turned from her bedside, at the termination of his third visit, he said:
“I think she will get on, now. Keep her quiet, avoid excitement, and if she does not improve steadily, let me know.”
He had verified Mamma’s good opinion of him by manifesting not the slightest concern in the personality of his patient. If he were, for the moment, interested in Leslie, it was as a fever patient, not as a woman strangely superior to her surroundings. And on this occasion he dropped his interest in her case at the very door of the sick-room.
At the corner of the dingy street, a voice close behind him arrested his footsteps: “Doctor Bayless.”
The man of medicine turned quickly to face the speaker.
“This is Doctor Bayless?” the owner of the intrusive voice queried.
Doctor Bayless bowed stiffly.