WHEN THE MORNING STARS SANG
Jean was having her breakfast in bed. Emily had slipped downstairs to drink an early cup of coffee with the Doctor and to warn him, "Don't tell her to-day."
"Why not?"
"It will spoil her feast. Derry Drake is coming to dinner."
"The robber—"
"Do you really feel that way about it?"
"I don't know how I feel."
He rose and went to the window. "It's a rotten morning."
"It is Thanksgiving."
"I haven't much to be thankful for," moodily. "I am, you tell me, about to lose my daughter. I am, also, it would seem, to part company with my best nurse."