I don't suppose he
would give me strychnine just because I am a Presbyterian minister."
"Oh, mercy!" ejaculated Carol. "I never thought of that. Do you
suppose he would?"
But David only laughed at her, as he so often did.
When Carol met the doctor at the door, she found instant reassurance in
the strong, kind, clever face.
"It's a cold," she explained, "but it hangs on too long, and he keeps
running down-hill."
The doctor looked very searchingly into David's pale bright face. And
Carol and David did not know that the extra joke and the extravagant
cheeriness of his voice indicated that things looked badly. They took
great satisfaction in his easy manner, and when, after a brief
examination, he said:
"Now, into bed you go, Mr. Duke, and there you stay a while. Get a
substitute for Sunday. You've got to make a baby of a bad cold and pet
it a little."
David and Carol laughed, and when the doctor went away, and David was
safely in bed, Carol perched up beside him and they had a stirring game
of parcheesi. But David soon tired, and lay very quietly all evening,
eating no dinner, and talking very little. Telephone messages from
"the members" came thick and fast, with offers of all kinds of tempting
viands, and callers came streaming to the door.
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