It seemed very terrible to the two girls to stay there quietly waiting in their father's painfully bright room at the hospital until he was brought back to them on the wheeled table from the operating-room. They could not speak. Doris sat with her hands clenched tightly in her lap, with Rosalie on the arm of the chair, leaning against her. MacCammon stood beside the window, coming to the girls now and then to give them reassuring pats and smiles, and then going back to the window. Presently a nurse came in, carefully darkened the room, and put water bottles and flannels in the bed. She smiled encouragingly at the girls, who tried very hard to twist their lips into a semblance of good cheer in return. Then the table was wheeled in again, and father was slipped deftly back into the bed, and the doctor was talking to them brightly, and smiling. "Just fine. Worked like a charm. Why, when I think of how that man must have suffered for the last months-- Why, it is preposterous-- It is downright-- Anyhow, it is over now." The girls did not speak. "Come on down-stairs and let's beg some coffee. It does not seem particularly cold to-day, but you folks give me a chilly sensation." "And leave father?" gasped Doris. "Why not? And why do you whisper? Your father, my dear, will have a nice quiet rest for an hour or so, and there is no reason why we should sit here in the dark and hear him breathe. Come on, MacCammon, don't you need a tonic?" "Are you sure he is all right?" asked Doris, looking closely at her father's face, showing grim and rigid in the darkened room. "He looks very sick." "He looks sick, my dear, but he is all right. The operation was absolutely successful to the minutest degree. You do not think he is going to die, do you?" "Doctors are strange," said Rosalie in a hushed voice. "How do you know he will come out from the anesthetic?" "Because he is out from the danger of it now. Only he does not know it yet. His heart is pumping away, and he is breathing normally, and in a few hours he will be wide awake. Come now, don't argue with me. Your father has spoiled you, I see that. I would never allow any argument, if I had girls of my own. But I haven't any." "Are you married?" asked Doris with some interest. "No, I am not married. But I know how I would rear my daughters." "Sure you do," laughed MacCammon. "So do I. All of us unmarried fellows know all about rearing daughters. Come on, girls, we may as well go quietly and try to live at peace with this quarrelsome creature your father has pushed on to us." The girls passed slowly from the room, but their faces brightened a little when one of the nurses said: "Don't worry. The doctor is right. The danger is all over. We do not know yet just how fine the eyes will be--but the danger is gone. Run along and get your coffee. Your father will sleep a long time." "Then may we wire the girls now--that he is all right? I know they will be anxious."