muses me. I'll come down handsomely for her."

"Well, you must let me think it over," replied the doctor in his most
serious manner, but he smiled as he shut the library door.

An evening shortly afterwards Dr. Norman again called on old Mr.
Waldron. He found his patient much better, and seated at his
writing-table, from which he glanced up quite briskly to inquire--

"Well, have you brought our queer little friend again?"

"Not this time, but I have come to know if you will help me."

"Got some interesting boy up your sleeve this time, have you?"

"No, only the same girl. I want to cure her lameness."

"Is that possible?"

"I believe quite possible, but it will mean an operation and probably a
slow recovery."

"You don't want me to operate, I suppose?"

The doctor smiled. "Only as friend and helper. I will do the deed
myself."

Old Mr. Waldron growled. "Flaunting your good deeds to draw this badger,
eh? Well, where do I come in?"

[Sidenote: Dr. Norman's Proposal]

"Let me bring the child here. Let her be cared for under your roof. Her
father is poor--he cannot afford nurses and the paraphernalia of a
sick-room."

"So I am to turn my house into a hospital for the sick brat of nobody
knows who--a likely tale! Why, I haven't even heard the father's name!"

"He is my friend, let that suffice."

"It doesn't suffice!" roared the old man, working himself into a rage.
"I call it pretty cool that you should come here and foist your charity
brats on me!"

Dr. Norman took up his hat.

"You requested me to see if the father would allow you to adopt the
child----"

"Adopt; did I say adopt?"

"No; you used a stronger term--'buy,' I think it was."

Old Mr. Waldron grunted. "I said nothing about nurses and carving up
legs."

"No, these are only incidents by the way. Well, good-evening." Dr.
Norman opened the door.

"Why are you in such haste?" demanded Mr. Waldron.

"I have people waiting for me," returned the doctor curtly. "I am only
wasting time here. Good-night."

He went outside, but ere his hand left the door a call from within
reached him.

"Come back, you old touch-flint!" cried Mr. Waldron. "You are trying to
force my hand--I know you! Well, I'll yield. Let that uncommonly queer
child come here; only remember I am to have no trouble, no annoyance.
Make your own arrangements--but don't bother me!"

So it came to pass that little Sophy Waldron was received into her
grandfather's house all u