"No," said Dr. Lavendar, quietly; "I will not smoke now."
"In regard to David," she began; and gripped her hands tight together, for she saw with dismay that they were shaking. She had an instant of angry surprise at her own body. It was betraying her to the silent, watching old man on the other side of the fire. "I want him; but I mean to leave Old Chester. Would you be willing to let me take him away?"
"Why," said Dr. Lavendar, "we shall be very sorry to have you leave us; and, of course, I shall be sorry to lose David. Very sorry! I shall feel," said Dr. Lavendar, with a rueful chuckle, "as if I had lost a tooth! That is about as omnipresent sense of loss as a human critter can have. But I can't see that that is any reason for not letting you take him."
"You are very kind," she murmured.
"Where are you going, and when do you go?" he asked, easily; but he glanced at those shaking hands.
"I want to go next week. I—oh, Dr. Lavendar! I want David; I am sure
nobody can do more for him than I can. Nobody can love him as I do! And
I think he would be pretty homesick for me, too, if I did not take him.
But—"
"Yes?"
She tried to smile; then spread her handkerchief on her knee, and folded it over and over with elaborate self-control. "Dr. King thinks—I ought not to have him. He says," she stopped; the effort to repeat William King's exact words drove the color out of her face. "He says he made a mistake in advising you to give David to me. He thinks—"
she caught her breath with a gasp;—"I am not to be trusted to—to bring him up." She trembled with relief; the worst was over. She had kept her promise, to the letter. Now she would begin to fight for her child: "You will let me have him? You will!—Please say you will, Dr. Lavendar!"
"Why does Dr. King think you are not to be trusted?" said Dr. Lavendar.