you don't
want to tell me."

"Oh, hang it, nurse! You always manage to get your own way with me,
don't you? I'll probably have to marry you one of these days, so I can
keep the upper hand," he grinned. "Well, then, Wiley is a weak sister
and oughtn't to be. He's completely under his chorus-girl wife's thumb.
He lost a good bit in Wall Street and what's left is in her name, so
he's got to watch his step until he's recouped his losses.

"If he were like his father or his grandfather ... but he isn't,"
snapped the doctor vexedly. "Now, this boy here, he's a throw-back,
young Frank is. He's the spittin' image of the founder of the family and
I'm willing to wager he's got the grit and determination that once
endowed old Frank Wiley I."

"I've observed," murmured Miss Beaver, "that you and his father call the
boy Frank, while his mother refers to him as Francis."

"That's her hifalutin way of putting on the dog, nurse," Doctor Parris
grinned wickedly. "His name on the birth certificate is Frank but she'd
make a girlish Francis of him if she had her own way. For some reason
she isn't getting it. Her husband sticks to the old family name of Frank
and the boy won't answer to Francis.

"She has a healthy respect for the first old Frank Wiley. If you were to
see the family album, nurse, you'd be quick to catch the look in the old
boy's eyes. Nobody ever put anything over on that lad, believe me."

"I've no doubt of that," thought Miss Beaver to herself, the indomitable
countenance of her midnight visitor clear before her mind's eye. It was
astonishing, that strong family resemblance. Aloud she snapped: "Family
album, indeed! What I'm after is to get permission for this child to
have a pet. I'm positive it would make all the difference in the world
to him."

"You won't get permission, nurse. Mrs. Frank won't have any other pets
around to bother precious Kiki," he said grimly.

"Not if it's a matter of life or death?" she persisted.

"She would laugh at your putting it just that way," growled the doctor,
an absent expression stealing over his kindly face.

"Well, we'll see what we'll see," observed Miss Beaver cryptically, her
mouth an ominous tight red line.

* * * * *

The doctor suddenly spoke close to her ear, an odd note in his voice.
"I'm going to prescribe something very unusual, nurse. Tomorrow night a
covered basket will be delivered here for you. Take it into the boy's
room and