"I wondered that he never spoke a single word! Now that it's over, I think I'm going to faint," decided Miss Beaver shakily. "Nonsense," snapped the doctor with scant courtesy. "But _she_ is well scared, thank God. I hardly think she will interfere much in future with young Frank. And by the looks of him, the boy's father has had his backbone stiffened considerably." "That painted dog?" whispered Miss Beaver's tremulous lips. "Eh? Yes. Ah, yes, the dog," murmured the doctor, too casually. "You--you--dared!" uttered Miss Beaver incoherently under her breath. "Not altogether," he protested against her ear. He pointed upward. Miss Beaver's eyes followed that gesture and met the admonitory, inscrutable, but very gratified pictured eyes of old Mr. Wiley.