“The very greatest good,” he said. “This is just one of the cases where a sea voyage often gives a new lease of life. But we scarcely like to suggest it to a young professional man—a young married man. We find that an absolute rearrangement of life is often more feasible.”
“A sea voyage could be managed, Dr. Ivery!” cried Mrs. Challoner. “If there is hope in it, it can be done—it shall be done!”
“To be of real service, it must be very long,” warned the physician.
“It shall be the very longest that is to be had,” she said. She had risen from her seat. “I will talk over all details with my husband,” she added. “And when you come, sir, you will support my arguments.”
“Certainly,” he said, “and most heartily too, now I am entitled to do so. We must remember that we may have disappointment,” he added, gazing-down at her eager face. “But I can assure you we shall have good grounds to hope.”
“I must not detain you longer,” she said. “How blessed you are to be able to make others as happy as you have made me.”
“I have often to make them sad,” he answered, shaking his head, “at least, so far as we poor humans know what is gladness and what is sadness. And Mr. Challoner is really doing well? My assistant always gives favourable reports. And your boy? A bonnie boy! Why, who is looking after him while you are so much absorbed in your husband?”
“Oh, he can be with us now since Charlie has been getting stronger!” she answered. “And I can always trust him with Pollie. I don’t know what I should do without her. She has been with us ever since we married. I have been so much more fortunate than most of my friends.”
“Pollie has been more fortunate than some of your friends’ Pollies probably,” laughed the doctor. “I shouldn’t wonder but you spoil her.”
“No, I don’t!” declared Mrs. Challoner, with a good housewife’s indignation. “But I knew when I had a good servant, and I kept my place open for her for six months during her mother’s last illness, and when her invalid sister was attending the Free Hospital, I had her to stay with Pollie. That is how we came to hear about you, Dr. Ivery. So I am sure we have been trebly repaid. These poor people live in a little damp cottage in Essex—I don’t wonder the family are sickly. Pollie herself has grown into a different girl since she has lived in Pelham Street.”