"Good-morning, little Miss Winnie," he said pleasantly, "and what can I do for you to-day? Nothing wrong at home, I hope."
"Oh, no, sir," said Winifred, half her fears vanishing at the sound of the doctor's kind voice; "father and mother are very well. I've had a cold, but I'm all right again now. I come—that is, I want—oh, Dr. Bell, will you please do me a very great favor?"
"Do you a favor?" the doctor repeated, still smiling, and sitting down beside her on the sofa. "Yes indeed, I will—that is, if I can. What is it?"
"It's to go and see Mrs. Randall, who lives in our apartment house," Winifred explained timidly. "She's a very nice lady, but she hasn't any money to pay a doctor with. She's very ill indeed, but she told Betty—that's her little girl, you know—not to send for a doctor, because she couldn't afford it."
The doctor looked a little puzzled.
"Perhaps she wouldn't care to see me then," he said, "if she objected to having a doctor sent for."
"Oh, yes, she would," said Winifred earnestly, "at least she wouldn't know anything about it, and Betty and Jack would be so very glad. Jack is a cripple, he can't walk at all; and, oh, it's dreadful to see him so unhappy. Mrs. Randall is really very ill. She doesn't know Betty and she keeps talking to herself the way people in books do when they're delirious.
"I said I'd come and tell you about it, and I was sure you'd come, because Lulu says you're so very kind."
The doctor smiled, but he was beginning to look really interested.
"Did your mother send you for me?" he asked.