On the evening of Molly’s informal dinner when Nance, who was the only member of the household who had not met the strangers, came into the library, Misel stood up to be introduced, but his wife gave a low cry of alarm and sprang to his assistance, eagerly placing his crutch in one hand, his cane in the other. He sank to his seat with a smothered groan.
“Jean, Jean! What am I to do with you?” said Madame Misel irritably. “He is so imprudent,” apologetically to Molly, who had tears in her eyes at this exhibition of courage and weakness. She could well understand how Monsieur Misel’s courteous desires could get the better of his strength.
Andy McLean was present and the doctor in him immediately became interested in the pitiable case. He had none of the hesitation Judy had shown in regard to questioning the Misels concerning the cause of the lameness.
“What is your trouble?” he asked bluntly. “If you can stand without support as you did a moment ago, I see no reason why you cannot be cured.”
“In time! In time!” said Misel with patient resignation.
“He has had the best medical attention,” put in his wife.
Madame Misel usually spoke with a kind of slow hesitation, but now her words came rapidly. She had the air of trying to shield her husband from farther questioning on the part of Andy. Andy, however, was totally oblivious of this fact and went on.
“Who is his surgeon?”
“The great F——, in Baree!”
“What did he say?” asked Andy, impressed by the name.