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Bobbed Louise, "our engagement is.
"That makes no difference," an
swered the doctor gravely. "This
boy is more in need of it than the
other. That is all I can see."
He dipped the hypodermic into his
phial, and the mother, darting for
ward, knocked both phial and hypo
dermic from the table, sending them
rolling into a corner. The phial
cracked and emptied its contents
upon the floor.
"At least if you won't save my son,
your own shall die," cried Mrs. Sou
tar in fury. "Come, Louise!"
The two women swept out of the
room, out of the house, and home, to
find that Leonard was better.
By nightfall he was out of danger.
At the same hour Prank Hicks lay
dead in his father's house.
JThere was no other doctor in the
village. Dr. Hicks continued to at
tend 'the Boutar boy until he was con
valescent Then he ceased to come.
He sent .his bill' in the regular way,
T sister of Mrs. Soutar, a maiden lady,-
wno nao been. a constant visitor atv
his home when his wife lived. But
she had died almost at the same time
as Mrs. Hicks and no link remained
between the famliies.
A few nights before her death the
old woman called the doctor to hers
bedside. Brokenly she told him tha
she had no one else in whom to conr
fide. Then, she told him her story. ,fe
It concerned her dead sister. Yearsg
before, in girlhood, she had suffered
a great wrong. She had gone awayg
Her child, a boy, had been born in &r
I remote place-and left In the fotindllngj
uospiiai mere. Aiierwara sue naqj
him removed to a town nearer,
where, in the guise of an interested
visitor, she could see him occasional
ly. But the boy had been adopted
and, in accordance with the rules oj
the institution, she was refused all,
information as to his whereabouts &
"I want you to find my sister's bo
and c&re for him, doctor," she saidg
.mere is a, uiue inoney a private
home again. The gossips Baid, how
ever, that there had been a painful
scene before he left for the last time
and that Hicks had refused the wom
en's pitiful plea for forgiveness. He
could forgive the loss, of his sop bet
ter than that of his 'xase," said the
For two years Hickey and the wom
en only bowed when they passed.
Then Mrs. Soutar fell ill of the incur
able disease that was to result in hel
death. Hicks again became a con
stant visitor at the home, but strictly
in his professional capacity. The Sou
tars were the last of the old families
in the town; their lives were exceed
ingly lonely and exceeding quiet. All
their old associates were dead, ex
cept the doctor who had come to the
place in youth, thirty years before.
and even then, the old traditions had
largely ceased, and the stories of the
but he was never seen at the Soutar Lhoard, devoted to this purpose. Anjl,
nobody must know. Even in deathi$
shrink from the shame that would.
Hicks promised and the dying;
woman closed here eyes in peace. Sej
passed away a few days later, bapp-
in Hicks' assurance that he had atj
ready traced .the child- fJ
It was the day after the funeral that
Louise sent lor the doctor ana toni
him the identical story. . j
"I never knew," she said, "until Ihij
night before my another's death. Sfhej
was rambling them, but I picked jm
enough of the story to understand
and to realize your chivalrous naturg
in accepting the quest But, when,
the.child Is found it must be my task
to provide for him. He may hava
grown into an uncouth, illiterate
man. That task must be mine."
The doctor laid his hand on her,
shoulder. ' .
liyes of the first settlers had been "I Want to tell you first,," he said,
forgotten. His friendship with the "that I have not faltered in. my faith
Soutars had come about thrQUgh a I to you, I lov;e you, as I have always.