Dr. Lavendar looked at him out of the corner of his eye.
Mr. Spangler stood stock-still; he opened and shut his hands, his lips were pressed hard together. He seemed almost in bodily pain, for a slight moisture stood out on his forehead. He was certainly in spiritual pain. The Ideal of Sacrifice was being born in Mr. Spangler's soul. His mild, kind, empty face grew almost noble; certainly it grew very solemn.
"Dr. Lavendar," he said, in a low voice, "I will do it."
Dr. Lavendar was instantly on his feet; there was a grip of the hand, and, for a moment, no words.
"I'll telegraph Mr. Brown," said Mr. Spangler, breathlessly.
"So will I!" said Dr. Lavendar.
Mr. Spangler was scarlet with heroism. "It means giving up my house and my very congenial surroundings, and I fear Mary Ann will feel too old to accompany me; but with—with Ellen!"
"She's worth six Mary Anns, whoever Mary Ann may be," said Dr. Lavendar.
"You may have thought me hesitant," said Mr. Spangler, "but I felt that I must weigh the matter thoroughly."
"Why, certainly, man. It was your duty to think what was best for Ellen."