do you dislike him?"

"I do not dislike him."

"Then why--?" her father protested.

But Philly was silent.

Even Hannah came to the rescue:

"You'll get a crooked stick at the end, if you don't look out!"

Philly laughed; then her face fell. "I sha'n't have any stick, ever!"

And Hannah, in her concern, confided her forebodings about the stick to
Dr. King.

"I wonder," William said to himself, uneasily, "if I was wise to tell
that child to hold her tongue? Perhaps they might have straightened it
out between 'em before this, if she had told him and been done with it.
I've a great mind to ask Dr. Lavendar."

He did ask him; at first with proper precautions not to betray a
patient's confidence, but, at a word from Dr. Lavendar, tumbling into
truthfulness.

"You are talking about young Philippa Roberts?" Dr. Lavendar announced,
calmly, when William was half-way through his story of concealed
identities.

"How did you guess it?" the doctor said, astonished; "oh, well, yes, I
am. I guess there's no harm telling you--" "Not the slightest," said
Dr. Lavendar, "especially as I knew it already from the young man--I
mean, I knew she wouldn't have him. But I didn't know why until your
story dovetailed with his. William, the thing has festered in her!
The lancet ought to have been used the next day. I believe she'd have
been married by this time if she'd spoken out, then and there."

William King was much chagrined. "I thought, being a girl, you know,
her pride, her self-respect--"

"Oh yes; the lancet hurts," Dr. Lavendar admitted; "but it's better
than--well, I don't know the terms of your trade, Willy-but I guess you
know what I mean?"

"I guess I do," said William King, thoughtfully. "Do you suppose it's
too late now?"

"It will be more of an operation," Dr. Lavendar conceded.

"Could I tell him?" William said, after a while.

"I don't see why not," Dr. Lavendar said.

"I suppose I'd have to ask her permission?"

"Nonsense!" said Dr. Lavendar.

That talk between the physician of the soul and the physician of the
body happened on the very night when John Fenn, in his study in
Perryville, with Mary dozing on his knee, threw over, once and for all,
what he had called "submission" and made up his mind to get his girl!
The very next morning he girded himself and walked forth upon the Pike
toward Henry Roberts's house. He did not take Mary with him,--but not
because he meant to urge salvation on Miss Ph