"Thanks. I've half a mind to put you to the test--say with that pet thumb-marked tablet of yours," retorted the doctor, with a lift of his eyebrows. "However, we'll let it go at a dinner this time.--You're looking better, old man," he said some time later, as they sat at the table, his eyes critically bent on the other's face. "I am better." "Glad to hear it. How's business?" "Very good--that is, it _was_ good. I haven't been near the Works for a week." "So? Not--sick?" "Oh, no; busy." There was the briefest of pauses; then, with disconcerting abruptness, came the question: "Where'd you get that girl, Gleason?" "G-girl?" The doctor wanted a minute to think. Incidentally he was trying to swallow his heart--he thought it must be his heart--that big lump in his throat. "Miss Darling." "Miss Darling! Oh!" The doctor waved his hand inconsequently. He still wanted time. He was still swallowing at that lump. "Why, she--she--I told you. She's the daughter of an old friend. Why, isn't she all right?" He feigned the deepest concern. "_All right!_" Voice and manner carried a message of satisfaction that was unmistakable. But the doctor chose to ignore it. The doctor felt himself now on sure ground. He summoned a still deeper concern to his countenance. "Why, Denby, you don't mean she _isn't_ all right? What's the trouble? Isn't she capable?--or don't you like her ways?" "But I mean she _is_ all right, man," retorted the other impatiently. "Why, Gleason, she's a wonder!" Gleason, within whom the Hallelujah Chorus had become such a shout of triumph that he half expected to see Burke Denby cover his ears, managed to utter a cool-- "Really? Well, I'm glad, I'm sure." "Well, she is. She's no ordinary girl." ("If Helen could but hear that!" exulted the doctor to himself.) "Why, what do you think? She can actually tell _me_ some things about my own curios!" "Then they are more than--er--potatoes to her? You know you said--" "Yes, I know I did. But just hear this. In spite of her seeming intelligence and capability, I'd been dreading to open those cabinets and let her touch those things dad and I had spent so many dear years together gathering. But, of course, I knew that that was silly. One of my chief reasons for getting her was the cataloguing; and it was absurd not to set her at it. So one day, after everything else was done, I explained what I wanted, and told her to go ahead." "Well, and--did she?" prompted the doctor, as the other paused. "She did--_exactly_ that. She went ahead--'way ahead of what I'd told her to do. Why, when I got home, I was amazed to see what she'd done. But best of all was her interest and her enthusiasm, and the fact that she knew and appreciated what they were. You see that's one of the things I'd been dreading--her ignorance--her indifference; but I dreaded more that she might gush and say, 'Oh, how pretty!' And I knew if she did I'd--I'd want to knock her down." "So glad--she didn't!" murmured the doctor.