doctuh," he whispered, "'bout de operation bein'
already pe'fo'med. Dey-all had jes' gone in de minute befo' you
come--Doctuh Price hadn' even got out 'n de room. Dey be'n quollin'
'bout you fer de las' ha'f hour. Majah Ca'te'et say he wouldn' have
you, an' de No'then doctuh say he wouldn't do nothin' widout you, an'
Doctuh Price he j'ined in on bofe sides, an' dey had it hot an' heavy,
nip an' tuck, till bimeby Majah Ca'te'et up an' say it wa'n't altogether
yo' color he objected to, an' wid dat de No'then doctuh give in. He's
a fine man, suh, but dey wuz too much fer 'im!"

"Thank you, Sam, I'm much obliged," returned Miller mechanically. "One
likes to know the truth."

Truth, it has been said, is mighty, and must prevail; but it sometimes
leaves a bad taste in the mouth. In the ordinary course of events Miller
would not have anticipated such an invitation, and for that reason had
appreciated it all the more. The rebuff came with a corresponding shock.
He had the heart of a man, the sensibilities of a cultivated gentleman;
the one was sore, the other deeply wounded. He was not altogether sure,
upon reflection, whether he blamed Dr. Price very much for the amiable
lie, which had been meant to spare his feelings, or thanked Sam a great
deal for the unpalatable truth.

Janet met him at the door. "How is the baby?" she asked excitedly.

"Dr. Price says he is doing well."

"What is the matter, Will, and why are you back so soon?"

He would have spared her the story, but she was a woman, and would have
it. He was wounded, too, and wanted sympathy, of which Janet was an
exhaustless fountain. So he told her what had happened. She comforted
him after the manner of a loving woman, and felt righteously indignant
toward her sister's husband, who had thus been instrumental in the
humiliation of her own. Her anger did not embrace her sister, and yet
she felt obscurely that their unacknowledged relationship had been the
malignant force which had given her husband pain, and defeated his
honorable ambition. When Dr. Price entered the nursery, Dr. Burns was
leaning attentively over the operating table. The implements needed for
the operation were all in readiness--the knives, the basin, the sponge,
the materials for dressing the wound--all the ghastly paraphernalia of
vivisection.

Mrs. Carteret had been banished to another room, where Clara vainly
attempted to soothe her. Old Mammy Jane, still burdened by her fears,
fervently p