"I left Rob in a perfect fury at the foot of his bed. He woke up when I was getting ready to come over, and wanted to come, too. He says Cary belongs to him. I threatened severe punishment, and—left him."
The post surgeon chuckled.
"He'll risk that if he takes it in his head to come."
"I'm afraid he will. I left Johnny consoling him."
"The two of them called seven times this afternoon."
"I know—but I never dreamed Cary was really ill."
"Well—" The post surgeon hesitated, "I'll be back after awhile and if the baby's worse, I'll spend the night with you."
He closed the front door softly; hesitated for an instant before he recrossed the shadowy parade ground, and starting to go on, stumbled over a dark object on the porch.
The dark object turned out to be a boy, who rose and pulled at the surgeon's sleeve.
"How is she? Oh! tell me how she is!" he asked. His thin, high bred face with the delicately chiseled features, showed out sharply in the waning moonlight.