"He has, indeed. But how about the man? You haven't told me at all how you like Mr. Denby himself." Betty glanced at her mother with a roguish shrug. "Well, as I tell mother, now that I've got him trained, he does very well." "My _dear_!" murmured her mother. "Trained?" The question was the doctor's. "Yes. You see at first he was such a bear." "Oh, Betty!" exclaimed her mother, in very genuine distress. But Betty plainly was in one of her most mischievous moods. With another merry glance at her mother she turned to the doctor. "It's only this, doctor. You see, at first he was so silent and solemn, and Benton and Sarah and Mrs. Gowing were so scared, and the whole house was so scared and silent and solemn, that it seemed some days as if I should scream, just to make a little excitement. But it's all very different now. Benton and Sarah are all smiles, Mrs. Gowing actually laughs sometimes, and the only trouble is there isn't time enough for Mr. Denby to get in all the talking he wants to." "Then Mr. Denby seems happier?" "Oh, very much. Of course, at first it was just about the work--we're cataloguing the curios; but lately it's been in other ways. Why, the other day he found I could play and sing a little, and to-day he asked me to sing for him. And I did." Helen sat suddenly erect in her chair. "Sing? You sang for Mr. Denby?" she cried, plainly very much agitated. "But you hadn't told me--that!" "I hadn't done it till this afternoon, just before I came home," laughed Betty. "But what did you sing? Oh, you--you didn't sing any of those foolish, nonsensical songs, did you?" implored Helen, half rising from her chair. "But I did," bridled Betty. Then, as her mother fell back dismayed, she cried: "Did you suppose I'd risk singing solemn things to a man who had just learned to laugh?" "But, _ragtime_!" moaned Helen, "when he's always hated it so!" "'Always hated it so'!" echoed Betty, with puzzled eyes. "Why, I hadn't played it before, dearie. I hadn't played anything!" "No, no, I--I mean always hated everything gay and lively _like_ ragtime," corrected Helen, her cheeks abnormally pink, as she carefully avoided the doctor's eyes. "Why didn't you play some of your good music, dear?" "Oh, I did, afterwards, of course,--MacDowell and Schubert, and that lullaby we love. But he liked the ragtime, too, all right. I know he did. Besides, it just did me good to liven up the old house a bit. I know Benton was listening in the hall, and I'm positive Sarah and the cook had the dining-room door open. As for Mrs. Gowing, she--dear old soul--just sat and frankly cried. And the merrier I sang, the faster the tears rolled down her face--but it was for joy. I could see that. And once I heard her mutter: 'To think that ever again I should hear music and laughter--_here_!' Dr. Gleason, did Mr. Denby ever love somebody once, and do I look like her?"