"It's fine—what there is of it. Dress too—there's plenty of that. Why have that long tail on it?"
"Well, it's the fashion," said Mary indulgently.
"You look very nice indeed. Better than you have all summer."
"Well, Father, I can't say as much for you. You look tired out."
"I am, at night. But I get up like a lark in the morning."
"You work too hard. You ought to have a man to drive you now, and an assistant—and only go out on great occasions, when you get a big fee, you know!"
A faint uneasiness showed in Dr. Lowell's face.
"Now don't you go trying to take away my work. That's the quick way to break a man up.... I'm going to die in harness," he declared.
"Well, I'm afraid you will," and Mary's lips quivered. He was quick to notice and to soothe her.
"Don't you worry. There's a lot of work in the old man yet. I'm not seventy. And I don't go out much at night any more, you know, or in very bad weather—unless it's life or death.... Oh, they have to consider me now!"