"Yes."
"So, you see, that is why I want you to urge Father to stay on here," begged Theo. "Tell him the Maine air will do me good; tell him I'll get a fine rest keeping still; tell him—oh, tell him
anything; only don't let him pack up and go home, and have his whole vacation spoiled. If you'll just get him to stay, Mr. Croyden, I will promise not to bother, and he can go off every day and fish just as if I weren't here."
"You are a trump, Theo."
"It—it is only that I think it's square, sir," faltered Theo.
There was not time for further discussion, for at this juncture the door opened and Dr. Swift, followed by Manuel, entered.
Theo knew the moment for his boasted heroism had come.
He shut his lips tightly, and although the interval of anguish which followed forced the tears from his eyes he made no outcry. But never in his life had he experienced such pain. He did not know there was such pain in all the world.
When it was over and, faint from suffering, he lay languidly back among the pillows, Dr. Swift's stern face relaxed, and it was then Theo realized for the first time that his father, too, had been bracing himself to meet the ordeal and had also been suffering.
"My poor boy!" was all the Doctor said. "You have borne it like a man! I am proud of you, Theo."