he meant to take. Success to him--the queer,
fine old boy!

"He may be over later when he gets that confounded snake of an
instrument figured out." Chester offered this to the group upon his
porch as consolation.

"And if he doesn't get it figured out before we break up, he won't
be over," prophesied Macauley. "Ten to one he forgets to come and say
good-bye before he starts for the hospital in the morning."

"I'm going to be standing beside the driveway when he goes," vowed
Pauline. "And if he doesn't notice me I'll climb on the car."

"Ellen, don't go to-morrow," whispered Martha Macauley to her sister.
"Don't let it end this way. When he comes to, you'll be gone, and that's
such a pity just now."

"But I think I would rather be gone, dear." Ellen Lessing whispered
back.

"Oh, why? When Red's excited over a big success he's simply off his
head--there's no knowing what he won't do."

"I prefer him when he has his head. Don't urge, Martha. I've promised to
go in the morning with Pauline, and nothing could make me change."

"It's a shame for him to be so absorbed. Who wants a man who can forget
the existence of a woman like that?"

"Who wants one who can't? A sorry surgeon he'd be--his hand would shake.
Don't talk about it any more, dear. I'm going to enjoy this evening with
you all. And I hope--oh, how I hope--that operation will be a success!"

If it were not to be a success it would not be the fault of the man who
worked till one o'clock--two o'clock--three o'clock it the morning to
perfect the strangely convoluted tool which was to help "do the trick"
if it could be done. Part of the work was done in the laboratory, part
in the machine shop which occupied a corner of the old red barn, where
the Green Imp lent her lamps as aids to the task in hand. At four, the
instrument finished, sterilized, and put away as if it were worth its
weight in gold--which it might easily have been if it were to prove
fitted to the peculiar need--Burns went to bed. At six he was up again,
had a cold plunge and a hearty breakfast, and at seven was sending the
Imp out of the gateway, his office nurse beside him. If Mrs. Lessing
hoped the operation would be a success, Miss Mathewson hoped and feared
and longed with all her soul. Beneath the uniform and behind the quiet,
plain face of the young woman who had been R. P. Burns's professional
assistant for eight years, lived a person than whom none cared more how
things went with him.