"And he thinks—though, of course, I haven’t told Susie—that at the end of six months she may be able to _walk_! He says there was a girl suffering just like Susie in a Scotch hospital, and she was cured. But there is only a chance, of course." "What does Susie say about going?" "Well, the poor child is rather timid and nervous but she is quite willing. It’s wonderful how she has taken to the doctor." Before getting his dinner, Jim ran up to his sister, who was in bed, and feeling rather weary after the medical examination. "Has mother told you?" she asked, smiling bravely. "Yes. Isn’t it glorious? You don’t mind going, do you? I shall come to see you on Sundays. And oh, suppose—suppose you should be able to walk some day!" There was a suspicion of tears in her eyes as she answered, "Don’t talk about that, Jim—not yet. I try not to think of it, because it may never happen." "I believe it will, though," declared Jim stoutly. "The doctor would not say there was a chance unless he felt pretty sure of it." "Did he say that?" asked the girl eagerly. "Yes; only you must keep up your spirits and go on hoping all the time. Now I must run off, or I shall be late for school." At the door she called him back, saying, "I should like to see Dick before I go." "So you shall. I’ll tell him presently, and he’ll come in this evening. Old Dick will be as happy as a sand-boy when he hears the news." As it happened, Jim had no chance to speak to his chum till after school, when, as usual, Dick went a part of the way to the shop with him. "I’ll go in directly after tea," he said, his eyes sparkling. "Poor little midge! ’twill be dreary enough in the hospital; but, I say, fancy her walking! Even if she has to use a crutch it will be something. Well, I’ll turn off here and run straight home. Good-night, in case I’m gone when you get back." True to his word, Dr. Stewart sent a nurse with the famous chair the next morning, and also looked in himself to superintend the removal of his little patient. "There," said he, "now you’re comfortable—eh? Oh yes; mother’s coming too. Why, it’s quite a royal procession. And on Sunday we shall have our big brother to see how we’re getting on—eh, my lassie?" Brook Street showed unwonted excitement over the child’s removal, and discussed it volubly and freely, agreeing on the whole with the crushing remark of Mrs. Archer, whose chief occupation in life was discussing the affairs of her neighbours. "As much fuss," said she scornfully, "as if she was a real lady! An’ her brother goin’ round with papers! It’s a wonder they don’t have a carriage with houtriders and postillions, like the King!"