e quite
naturally, however much they would like to, and I don't want any melting
looks: and if it goes the other way--well, I don't like good-byes. I agree
with dear old Mrs. Barbauld:

"'Say not Good-night, but in some brighter clime
Bid me Good-morning.'"

He was silent for a moment--and just at that moment the doctor arrived.

We went off to lunch with the old matron, who talked cheerfully about
things in general: and it was strange to feel that what was to us so deep a
tragedy was to her just a familiar experience, a thing that happened day by
day.

Then the doctor came in, a tall, thin, pale, unembarrassed man, very frank
and simple.

"Yes," he said, "there's a risk--I don't deny that! One never knows exactly
what the mischief is or how far it extends. I told Mr. Payne exactly what I
thought. He is the sort of man to whom one can do that. But he is strong,
he has lived a healthy life, he has a great vitality--everything is in his
favour. How long has he seemed to be ill, by the way?"

"Some three or four months, I think," said Barthrop. "But it is difficult
when you see anyone every day to realise a change--and then he is always
cheerful."

"He is," said the doctor. "I never saw a better patient. He told me his
symptoms like a doctor describing someone else's case, I never heard
anything so impersonal! We managed to catch Dr. Angus--that's the
specialist, you know, who will operate. Mr. Payne wasn't in the least
flurried. He showed no sign of being surprised: we sent him in here at
once, and he seems to have made friends with everyone. That's all to the
good, of course. He's not a nervous subject. No," he added reflectively,
"he has an excellent chance of recovery. But I should deceive you if I
pretended there was no risk. There _is_ a risk, and we must hope for
the best. By the way, gentlemen," he added, taking up his hat, "I hope you
won't think of staying in town. Mr. Payne seems most anxious that you
should go back, and I think his wish should be paramount. You can do
nothing here, and I think your remaining would fret him. I won't attempt to
dictate, but I feel that you would do well to go!"

"Oh, yes, we will go," said Barthrop. "You will let us know how all goes?"

"Of course!" said the doctor. "You shall hear at once!"

We went back, and spent an hour with Father Payne. I shall never forget
that hour: he talked on quietly, seeing that we were unable to do our part.
He spoke about the m