“Three weeks!” said the doctor, quickly. “That is plenty of time to arrange for the future; and now all you have got to do is to be as happy as you can, say your prayers, and leave the rest to me. Now, you can go and see Bobby. I told Lawson to stay with him until you came.” He got up and opened the door for her, as he spoke, and, without knowing why, she carried away a strong impression of charm and strength from the pose of his figure, as he held the door open for her. He was a trained athlete, and not the least part of his personal attractiveness was in his exceptionally handsome figure. The next day, Bobby was put under chloroform, and an operation was performed. Ethel was sent to Mrs. Mills’ room during this time, and when at last a message arrived for her to come, she found her little brother stretched out very straight and stiff upon a bed, waiting for the plaster jacket, in which he had been cased, to harden. He was still unconscious, but the doctor, who met her at the door, prepared her for a comprehension of everything, by telling her that it was “all right,” and that he was more convinced than ever of being able to do Bobby good. The doctor himself was in his working clothes of immaculate white linen, a costume in which those who had been privileged to see him, declared that he looked his very best; and when he bent over Bobby, and took the trouble to explain to Ethel what he had done in the way of straightening and righting things, she felt as if he were a sort of strong good spirit, who had both power and will to lessen the woes of life. Ethel had feared that the effect of the plaster would be to make the boy, at first, at least, more uncomfortable; but to her delight, she found that the support which it gave was an intense relief to him, and that he seemed every hour to be growing better in body and in mind. The doctor’s influence over him was simply unbounded, and a tremendous reformation had evidently begun in temper and disposition. One afternoon, a few days later, Ethel was sitting telling Bobby a story, when there came a knock at the door. She called “Come in,” and to her surprise it was the doctor who entered, although it was out of his usual hospital hours. He wore a long overcoat of tan-colored cloth, had a flower in his button-hole, and held an immaculate top-hat in his gloved hand. Ethel quite started. She had never seen such an imposing gentleman as this, outside of a picture, before. “I have come to give you a little airing,” he said; “you need it, I am sure. Will you put on your wraps and come down as soon as you are ready? I want to take you to the park.” Then he turned and put his gloved thumb on the button of the electric bell, and, in a moment, a tidy nurse appeared. “Are you on special duty, this afternoon?” he asked; and having a negative reply, went on: “Then find some storybooks or toys and come and amuse this child, if you please. I am going to take Miss Duncan for a little airing.”