Carroll dropped on his knees by the bedside in a rush of tears.
"Ah, Patsy, my Patsy! Is it your own voice I'm hearin'?"
"Dad, darlin', ye didn't mane it, did ye, dad?"
"What, Patsy?"
"To hit me."
"Ah, may God forgive me! but it's meself would sooner die than strike ye."
The little lad drew a deep breath of content.
"And the big man," he said. "He put out his hand over me. Ye didn't hurt him, dad, did ye?"
"No, no, Patsy, darlin'," said the big Irishman, burying his face in the pillow. "Speak to your dad again wid your lovely voice."
"Now, Carroll," said the doctor in a stern whisper. "That is enough. Not a word more. Do you want to kill your child?"