e of the
fact that he lived in Milwaukee. The idea of bringing him up to look at
me occurred to Max quite suddenly. I think it was on the evening that I
burst into tears when Max entered the room wearing a squeaky shoe. The
Weeping Walrus was a self-contained and tranquil creature compared to me
at that time. The sight of a fly on the wall was enough to make me burst
into a passion of sobs.

"I know the boy to steady those shaky nerves of yours, Dawn," said Max,
after I had made a shamefaced apology for my hysterical weeping, "I'm
going to have Von Gerhard up here to look at you. He can run up Sunday,
eh, Norah?"

"Who's Von Gerhard?" I inquired, out of the depths of my ignorance.
"Anyway, I won't have him. I'll bet he wears a Vandyke and spectacles."

"Von Gerhard!" exclaimed Norah, indignantly. "You ought to be thankful
to have him look at you, even if he wears goggles and a flowing beard.
Why, even that red-haired New York doctor of yours cringed and looked
impressed when I told him that Von Gerhard was a friend of my husband's,
and that they had been comrades at Heidelberg. I must have mentioned him
dozens of times in my letters."

"Never."

"Queer," commented Max, "he runs up here every now and then to spend a
quiet Sunday with Norah and me and the Spalpeens. Says it rests him. The
kids swarm all over him, and tear him limb from limb. It doesn't look
restful, but he says it's great. I think he came here from Berlin just
after you left for New York, Dawn. Milwaukee fits him as if it had been
made for him."

"But you're not going to drag this wonderful being up here just for me!"
I protested, aghast.

Max pointed an accusing finger at me from the doorway. "Aren't you what
the bromides call a bundle of nerves? And isn't Von Gerhard's specialty
untying just those knots? I'll write to him to-night."

And he did. And Von Gerhard came. The Spalpeens watched for him, their
noses flattened against the window-pane, for it was raining. As he came
up the path they burst out of the door to meet him. From my bedroom
window I saw him come prancing up the walk like a boy, with the two
children clinging to his coat-tails, all three quite unmindful of the
rain, and yelling like Comanches.

Ten minutes later he had donned his professional dignity, entered
my room, and beheld me in all my limp and pea-green beauty. I noted
approvingly that he had to stoop a bit as he entered the low doorway,
and that the Vandyke of my pr