Philly laughed; then her face fell. "I sha'n't have any stick, ever!"
And Hannah, in her concern, confided her forebodings about the stick to Dr. King.
"I wonder," William said to himself, uneasily, "if I was wise to tell that child to hold her tongue? Perhaps they might have straightened it out between 'em before this, if she had told him and been done with it. I've a great mind to ask Dr. Lavendar."
He did ask him; at first with proper precautions not to betray a patient's confidence, but, at a word from Dr. Lavendar, tumbling into truthfulness.
"You are talking about young Philippa Roberts?" Dr. Lavendar announced, calmly, when William was half-way through his story of concealed identities.
"How did you guess it?" the doctor said, astonished; "oh, well, yes, I am. I guess there's no harm telling you—" "Not the slightest," said Dr. Lavendar, "especially as I knew it already from the young man—I mean, I knew she wouldn't have him. But I didn't know why until your story dovetailed with his. William, the thing has festered in her! The lancet ought to have been used the next day. I believe she'd have been married by this time if she'd spoken out, then and there."
William King was much chagrined. "I thought, being a girl, you know, her pride, her self-respect—"
"Oh yes; the lancet hurts," Dr. Lavendar admitted; "but it's better than—well, I don't know the terms of your trade, Willy-but I guess you know what I mean?"
"I guess I do," said William King, thoughtfully. "Do you suppose it's too late now?"
"It will be more of an operation," Dr. Lavendar conceded.