d teased.

Yet Jean's words came back to the Doctor the next night, as he sat in
the Toy Shop waiting to escort his daughter home.

Miss Emily was serving a customer, a small boy in a red coat and baggy
trousers. A nurse stood behind the small boy, and played, as it were,
Chorus. She wore a blue cape and a long blue bow on the back of her
hat.

The small boy was having the mechanical toys wound up for him. He
expressed a preference for the clowns, but didn't like the colors.

"I want him boo'," he informed Miss Emily, "he's for a girl, and she
yikes boo'."

"Blue," said the nurse austerely, "you know your mother doesn't like
baby talk, Teddy."

"Ble-yew--" said the small boy, carefully.

"Blue clowns," Miss Emily stated, sympathetically, "are hard to get.
Most of them are red. I have the nicest thing that I haven't shown
you. But it costs a lot--"

"It's a birfday present," said the small boy.

"Birthday," from the Chorus.

"Be-yirthday," was the amended version, "and I want it nice."

Miss Emily brought forth from behind the glass doors of a case a small
green silk head of lettuce. She set it on the counter, and her fingers
found the key, then clickety-click, clickety-click, she wound it up.
It played a faint tune, the leaves opened--a rabbit with a wide-frilled
collar rose in the center. He turned from side to side, he waggled his
ears, and nodded his head, he winked an eye; then he disappeared, the
leaves closed, the music stopped.

The small boy was entranced. "It's boo-ful--"

"Beautiful--" from the background.

"Be-yewtiful--. I'll take it, please."

It was while Miss Emily was winding the toy that Dr. McKenzie noticed
her bands. They were young hands, quick and delightful hands. They
hovered over the toy, caressingly, beat time to the music, rested for a
moment on the shoulders of the little boy as he stood finally with
upturned face and tied-up parcel.

"I'm coming adain," he told her.

"Again--."

"Ag-yain--," patiently.

"I hope you will." Miss Emily held out her hand. She did not kiss
him. He was a boy, and she knew better.

When he had gone, importantly, Emily saw the Doctor's eyes upon her.
"I hated to sell it," she said, with a sigh; "goodness knows when I
shall get another. But I can't resist the children--"

He laughed. "You are a miser, Emily."

He had known her for many years. She was his wife's distant cousin,
and had been her dearest friend. She had tau