"But I am not a New York man," said Keith.
"Oh, you are getting to be a very fair counterfeit," said the old lady, half grimly.
Lois was very ill. She had been under a great strain in New York, and had finally broken down.
Among other items of interest that Keith gleaned was that Dr. Locaman, the resident physician at Brookford, was a suitor of Lois. Keith asked leave to send for a friend who was a man of large experience and a capital doctor.
"Well, I should be glad to have him sent for. These men here are dividing her up into separate pieces, and meantime she is going down the hill every day. Send for any one who will treat her as a whole human being and get her well."
So Keith telegraphed that day for Dr. Balsam, saying that he wanted him badly, and would be under lasting obligations if he would come to Brookford at once.
Brookford! The name called up many associations to the old physician. It was from Brookford that that young girl with her brown eyes and dark hair had walked into his life so long ago. It was from Brookford that the decree had come that had doomed him to a life of loneliness and exile. A desire seized him to see the place. Abby Brooke had been living a few years before. She might be living now.
As the Doctor descended from the cars, he was met by Keith, who told him that the patient was the daughter of General Huntington--the little girl he had known so long ago.
"I thought, perhaps, it was your widow," said the Doctor.
A little dash of color stole into Keith's grave face, then flickered out.