With mind filled with happy thoughts, Henry Updyke, fatigued by eighteen hours of constant activity, turned doggedly back to the telephone and asked connection with Dreamy Hollow, Villard's strange condition gave him a queer feeling of unrest. The big fellow felt that he had experienced more kinds of ups and downs during the past few months than for any period of his life. With joy on one lobe of his brain and dread on the other, he found himself halting between going ahead or going to bed. But the long tingle of the phone bell brought him back to attention, as Mrs. Bond's voice came over the wire.
"How's Mr. Villard?" he inquired.
"About the same, sir. His mind is just as it has been since——"
"Yes, I am fearful of the consequences. Any change in his actions?"
"About the same. He lives with the stars, and has no word for any of us—just oblivious to everything about him. Two specialists from the city were here to-day with Dr. Benton. Something about lesions that interfere with the brain," answered Mrs. Bond.
"Any talk of an operation?"
"I believe so, but the doctors are not agreed. Doctor Benton declares that no operation will take place with his consent. If outvoted, he says that he will turn the case over and quit. That would be terrible, wouldn't it?"
"Yes—more than that, it would be sinful. I'll give him a ring on the phone to-morrow. Lesions practically mean incipient paresis, and sometimes lobes form that are even more dangerous. Without criticising the life he leads, which is sedentary, Mr. Villard could have saved himself from the dreadful state he is in. An active, out-of-door life for a man of his build was positively necessary. And he should never have given up his daily habit of attending to business. It is the soft life that kills," concluded Updyke vehemently.
"I know you are right. Fat people like me have to keep going and continually diet, or they fall suddenly never to rise again," replied the housekeeper.