"The pullet? Not the little brown one you have cared for yourself, Cleena?" "What for no? Eat your victuals askin' no questions, for that's aye bad for the appetite." Both Amy and Cleena knew, without words, that this last city trip had been a failure, like so many that had preceded it. Once more had the too sanguine father dragged his crippled son to undergo a fresh examination of his well-formed though useless limbs; and once more had an adverse verdict been rendered. This time the authority was of the highest. A European specialist, whose name was known and reverenced upon two continents, had come to New York and had been consulted. Interested more than common by the boy's fair face and the sweet womanliness of the mother, the surgeon had given extra attention to Hallam, and his decision had been as reluctantly reached as it was final. "Only a miracle will ever enable him to walk. Yet a miracle may occur, for we live in an age of them, and nothing seems impossible to science. However, in all mortal probability, he is as one dead below his knees. My lad, take your medicine bravely and be a man in spite of it all. Use your brain, thanking God for it, and let the rest go." "That's an easy thing for you to say, but it is I who have to bear it!" burst forth the unhappy boy, and was at once ashamed of his rude speech, even if it in no wise offended the sympathetic physician. The return journey had been a sad and silent one, though Hallam had roused at its end with the sort of bravado that Amy had seen, and which deceived her no more than it did any of the others; but she loyally seconded his assumed cheerfulness, and after they had gathered about the table, gave them a lively description of her afternoon's outing, ending with:-- "For, mother dear, you hadn't said just where I might or might not ride, and I'd never seen the carpet mills, though I now hope to go there often; and, indeed, I think I would like to work in that busy place, among all those bright, active girls." Then her enthusiasm was promptly dashed by her father's exclamation:-- "Amy! Amy Kaye! Never again say such a thing! Let there be no more of that mill talk, not a word." Mr. Kaye's tone was more stern than his child had ever heard, and as if he recognized this he continued, more gently:-- "But I am interested in that silly Bonaparte. I almost wish you had kept him till I came." Amy happened to glance at Cleena, who had warned her not to mention the fact of the strange gentleman calling; nor had she known just when Fayette went away, though she supposed he had done so after so suddenly leaving the dining room. "Why, Goodsoul, you are as beaming as if you had found a treasure." "Faith, an' I have. Try a bit of the chicken, mistress, now do;" and she waved the dish toward the lady, with a smile that was more than cheerful.