You are going to have the
grippe, or pneumonia, or something awful, and--if you love me, David."
The pleading voice arrested his refusal and he gave the desired
consent, still laughing at the silly notion.
So Carol sped next door to the home of Mr. Daniels, the fatherly elder.
"Mr. Daniels," she cried, brightly happy because David had consented to
a doctor, and a doctor meant health and strength and the end of that
hateful little cough. "We are going to have a doctor see David. What
is the name of that man down-town--the one you think is so wonderful?"
Mr. Daniels gladly gave her the name, warmly approving the move, but he
shook his head a little over David. "I am no pessimist," he said, "but
David is not just exactly right."
"The doctor will fix him up," cried Carol joyously. "I am so relieved
and comfortable now. Don't try to worry me."
David looked nervous when Carol gave him the name of the physician she
had called.
"He is a Catholic,--and some of the members think--"
"Of course they do, but I am the head of this house," declared Carol,
standing on tiptoe and assuming her most lordly air. "And Doctor
O'Hara is the best in town, and he is coming."
"Oh, all right, if you feel like that about it.
Pages:
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82