"Probably not."
"No? Then they're curious institutions."
"There isn't one of 'em in which Elias M. Pierce isn't a controlling factor. Ask your father."
On the following day when Dr. Surtaine, who had been out of town for several days, dropped in at the office, Hal had a memorandum ready on the point. The old quack eased himself into a chair with his fine air of ample leisure, creating for himself a fragrant halo of cigar smoke.
"Well, Boyee." The tone was a mingling of warm affection and semi-humorous reproach. "You went and did it to Elias M., didn't you?"
"Yes, sir. We went and did it."
The Doctor shook his head, looking at the other through narrowing eyes. "And it's worrying you. You're not looking right."
"Oh, I'm well enough: a little sleeplessness, that's all."
He did not deem it necessary to tell his father that upon his white nights the unforgettable face of Esmé Elliot had gleamed persistently from out the darkness, banishing rest.
"Suppose you let me do some of the worrying, Boyee."