ness.

A doctor is a dedicated man. He accepts risks with a laugh, and toil
with, perhaps, a grumble, but he does not flinch. Obscure and
inglorious perils are his, and hardships that only himself can gauge.
Be sure that they are not unrecorded. They shine, and their splendour
is hidden, like those lanterns that were hidden under the coats of the
lantern-bearers. But there is, very surely, some screen, sensitive to
its rays, on which that light is thrown, that will some day show us
what we have been too self-centred to realise, and will dazzle us with
the devotion to which we are now too much habituated to admire.

CHAPTER XL

It was Barty who had brought out the car, and, on his father's
departure, he released the grip of the railings that had enabled him
to keep his footing, and was, literally, blown into the house.

"Shut the door, my Pigeon-pie!" said his mother, "the wind's too
strong for me."

Barty was too well accustomed to this expression of his mother's
affection to resent it, and having done her bidding, he followed her
into the Doctor's room, which alone had a fire in it.

"Nothing would please Tishy only to go down to the Whelplys,"
complained Mrs. Mangan, poking the fire, and seating herself in front
of it with a long, groaning sigh of exhaustion; "some nonsense about a
wreath. A wreath indeed! Any one'd be lucky that kept their hair on
their heads in this wind, let alone a wreath! You'll have to go fetch
her, my poor boy! I'll not be easy till I see her and Pappy home
again! I thought maybe Larry might have come over, but I declare now
I'm glad he did not."

"Larry's not like himself lately," said Barty, sitting down in his
father's chair, and taking from his pocket a paper packet and
extracting a crushed cigarette from it. "I think the loss of th'
election disappointed him greatly."

"'Twas well he had Tishy to console him," said Mrs. Mangan, "it was in
the nick of time she cot him!"

"It was," replied Barty, tepidly. "I think also," he went on, "he's
put out about his aunt not coming down for the wedding, and even young
Mrs. Kirby away. It's funny to think Coppinger's Court and Mount Music
are empty now, the two of them--or will be after to-morrow. Miss
Christian went to-day."

("See now how he's talking of her!" thought his mother. "I wonder did
Francis say anything to him?") Aloud she said: "It's a pity she's
gone, but it mightn't be for long."

"I saw her yesterday. The Doctor