he
same, I think you'd better call up a doctor."

CHAPTER XII

WHICH HOUSE?

The doctor did not share David's opinion. He shook his head gravely,
looked important and said, "It's lucky I got here so soon." Then he
brightened a little. "But it's a lovely clean cut and we'll do what we
can."

So, he stopped the flow of blood, washed out the wound with an antiseptic
solution and took several stitches; which hurt much worse than Smith's
knife had. Then he ordered David to the hospital. But by that time some
one had got Jonathan by telephone and he said, "No, bring him here." And
David protesting in vain, an ambulance took him to Jonathan's house and
gentle hands laid him on the bed of the special guest-room. A nurse was
installed and in time David fell asleep.

Through the night Jonathan watched, stealing every few minutes to David's
bedside. It was not at all necessary; the nurse slept, no fears
disturbing her slumbers. But Jonathan wanted to watch. He kept thinking
that David might have died. He shuddered and went pale at the thought.
For Jonathan had loved David; he loved him even now.

The bitterness of that day was gone; so much could a little letting of
blood accomplish. But the thought of one tragedy, so narrowly escaped,
did not help Jonathan to forget another impending--if it was to be
tragedy. His heart ached for his friends; it was only of them he thought
now. They faced each other across a chasm too wide to be leaped or
bridged; only by a descent into chill dark depths could their
outstretched hands meet. He did not blame them for having strayed to
that brink; not in the impulses of the heart do we sin, only in the
yielding.

But such chasms need not be tragic. There grow the sweetest flowers for
those having the will to see and gather. All his life Jonathan had been
schooled in that lesson, and he had learned to pluck happiness as he
turned his back on desire. He had even been happy in an unrequited love,
he had not sought to cast it out of his heart, he had loved his love--at
least until it had seemed helpless to save her from a hurt. He could be
happy in it still, if instead of tragedy they could find strength and
courage and the greater triumph growing on the brink of their chasm.

It seemed very simple and easy, what he wanted them to learn. He did not
understand that only the Greathearts find it simple and easy. He never
suspected that he was a Greatheart. An odd fish,