In the girl's voice was so much of anxious inquiry, such a tone of real sadness and regret, that he turned to her alarmed, but at that moment Lola came into the room. In the few seconds it took her to cross to him, smiling, both hands extended in greeting, his practiced eye assured him that never in all his experience had he seen a young woman in such superb physical health. She was radiant! The simple little housedress in which he had first seen her had been exchanged for an elaborate afternoon costume. Her skin was clear, he had remembered her as being pale, even in the short time he had seen her before the accident; but now she had a high color and an eager, animated manner that spoke of an abundant reserve of vitality. "There you are, Doctor," she cried gaily, as he returned the warm pressure of her hands. "I wonder if you know how glad I am to see you?" "No, my dear," he answered, "not unless you are reflecting my own pleasure in seeing you like this. I was worrying about you, way off there in the West. Were you well? Were you happy? Now I have but to look at you." "You are a flatterer, Doctor." As Lola turned from him smiling, her eyes fell on Maria, who stood watching the Doctor's face with a curious look of eager curiosity, her look changed, and she spoke sharply, almost cruelly. "What are you doing here, Maria?" Maria flushed and tears came to her eyes as she stammered, "I--I----" "You may go." "Yes, Miss." Maria left the room and Lola turned to find Dr. Crossett looking at her in wonder. He knew of the real affection that there had been between these two, and his own tender heart told him how Lola's tone must have hurt the girl who had so much reason to think of her with affection and gratitude. He made no effort to keep a look of reproof out of his eyes, but if Lola saw it there she gave no sign of it, but seated herself on a broad couch and motioned to him airily to seat himself beside her. "Now, Dr. Crossett," she began, "I want to talk with you before you see father. He is the dearest man in the world, but he knows nothing at all about business. He wrote to you?" "Yes, that is why I am here." "It is about money; he is very poor." "Poor?" Dr. Crossett glanced about the expensively furnished room in surprise, but Lola continued without seeming to notice. "He did not want to write, but I made him. You are his friend. You love him. I am sure that you will be glad to help him." "What I have is his," answered Dr. Crossett. "Surely there is no need to repeat that. If he wanted more, why did he not ask for it when I gave him my check before I left New York?"