the living-room, where stood the roomy and
luxurious couch which Ellen had provided with special thought of hours
like these.

He softly opened the windows, to let in the morning breeze and the
bird-songs of the early risers outside, then threw himself upon the
couch, and almost instantly was sound asleep.

Two hours later, before the household was astir, Ellen came down. She was
in flowing, lacy garments, her hair in freshly braided plaits hanging
over her shoulders, her eyes clear and bright with the invigoration of
the night's rest. As if she had known he would be there, she came
straight to her husband's side, and stood looking down at him with
her heart in her eyes.

He looked almost like a big boy, lying there with one arm under his head,
the heavy lashes marking the line of the closed eyes, the face unbent
from the tenser moulding of waking hours, the whole strong body relaxed
into an attitude of careless ease. Even as she looked, though she had
made scarcely a breath of noise, his eyes unclosed. He was the lightest
of sleepers, even when worn out with work. He lay staring up at her for a
minute while she smiled down at him, then he held out his arms.

"He's passed the danger point," he exulted, and he took hold of the two
long plaits and wound them about her head. Then he sat up and began
deliberately to unbraid her hair, while she submitted laughing.

"At two this morning he had a bad turn," said he, his fingers having
their way with the dusky locks. "The nurse gave him Van Horn's drugs,--he
grew worse. I rose up and took charge." He laughed at the thought. "We
had things doing there that would have made Van's hair curl. Everybody's
hair curled but mine. Mine stood up straight. I waved my arms like a
semaphore. I said _'Do this!'_ and they did it. I sent every one of Van's
emergency orders to thunder and tried my own. They were radical--but they
worked. The patient pulled out,--he'll live now,--I'll warrant him.
They got Van there just as the thing was over. He and I looked each other
in the eye--and I won. _Ah--h!--it was worth it!_"

He drew her hair all over her face, like a veil; then he gently parted it
and kissed her happy lips.

"Oh, but I'm the hungry boy," said he. "Can't we have breakfast--_now_?"

CHAPTER V

MORE THAN ONE OPINION

"I want an opinion," said Burns, one night at dinner, "that shall
coincide with mine. Where do you suppose I'm going to find it?"

He had been more or