"Is there a chance?" the Colonel cried, eagerly; "a real chance?"
"My dear man, until amputation is the only thing to be done, there's always a chance. Personally, I'm very hopeful, though I've been called a dreamer more than once. But we've got him chirked up a lot, and he's getting his nerve back, and this morning I thought I detected a slight improvement, though I was afraid to tell him so. We've all got to work for him and work like the devil at that."
"If work will do it—"
"Nothing worth while is ever done without work. Go up and see him."
At the sound of a familiar step upon the stair, Allison turned deathly white. He waited, scarcely daring to breathe, until the half-closed door opened, and his father stood before him, smiling in welcome. Allison sprang forward, unbelieving, until his hand touched his father's, not cold, as though he had risen from the grave, but warmly human and alive.
"Lad, dear lad! I've come back at last!" Allison's answering cry of joy fairly rang through the house. "Dad! Oh, Dad! I thought you were dead!"
XXI
SAVED—AND LOST
Alternately possessed by hope and doubt, the young surgeon worked during the weeks that followed as he had never worked before. He kept his doubt to himself, however, and passed on his hope to the others when he could do so conscientiously. Allison had ceased to ask questions, but eagerly watched the doctor's face. He knew, without being told, just when the outlook was dubious and when it was encouraging.
The doctor did not permit either Rose or Colonel Kent to hope too much. Both were with Allison constantly, and Madame drove over three or four times a week. Gradually a normal atmosphere was established, and, without apparent effort, they kept Allison occupied and amused.