ants. Can it
be that under that callous manner he hides regret for the past?"

Philip sighed.

"You must be ever present to his memory," went on the doctor. "It might
be possible to touch his feelings."

"How?"

"Through your child--nay, hear me out. No harm shall come to her; I
would not propose it did I believe such a thing possible."

"But it might mean separation. No, doctor, let us struggle along--she at
least is happy."

"For the present, yes, but for how long? She will not always remain a
child. Have you had a good medical opinion in regard to her lameness?"

"The best I could afford at the time."

"And----?"

"It was unfavourable to trying any remedy; but that was not long after
her mother's death."

"May I examine her?"

Waldron's glad eagerness was eloquent of thanks.

When Dr. Norman left those upper rooms there was a light long absent on
Philip's face as he drew his lame child within his arms.

[Sidenote: Sophy takes a Drive]

In a few days the doctor called again at Dalmatian Buildings, and
carried Sophy off in his carriage, the child all excitement at the
change and novelty.

After a short drive Dr. Norman said, "Now, Sophy, I have a rather
serious case on hand, and I am going to leave you for a little at a
friend's, and call for you again later. You won't mind?"

"I think not. I shall be better able to tell you after I have been."

The doctor laughed.

"You see," went on Sophy, with a wise nod of her little head, "you can't
tell how you will like things until you try them--now, can you?"

"No, certainly not. So you can tell me how you get on as I drive you
home."

"Is this your serious case or mine?" asked Sophy anxiously, as the
carriage drew up at a large house in a West-End square.

"This is where I hope to leave you," returned the doctor, smiling. "But
you must wait until I find if it be convenient for me to do so."

Dr. Norman was shown into the library, where by the fire in an arm-chair
sat an old man, one foot supported on a stool before him. His face was
drawn and pinched, and his temper none of the sweetest, to judge by the
curt response he made to the doctor's greeting.

"You are late this morning," was his sole remark.

"I may be slightly--but you are fast becoming independent of my care."

An unamiable grunt was the old man's reply.

When a few medical questions had been put and answered, Dr. Norman
placed himself on the hearthrug, looking down at his patient