her useful down there in Duck
Town. I shall be here early in the morning to go with you."

The Doctor said nothing. He merely clasped the woman's hand in
his two hands, and the look in his face was the look of that
little boy called David, when somebody has been good to him.

CHAPTER XIII

THE SUBSTITUTE

To Mrs. Wilson, the neighbor who had spent the better part of two
hours with David, Miss Eastman was saying, "_Must_ you go?"

Surely it is conclusive proof of superior intelligence in
womankind that any of the sex can understand when she is wanted
and when she is not wanted, although the idea in either case is
conveyed in precisely the same words.

Miss Eastman, for her part, was honestly grateful to Mrs. Wilson
for having remained with David during the early part of the
evening, but now Mrs. Wilson could go home and come again
another day. Miss Eastman did not say that; of course not! What
she did say was, "_Must_ you go?"

Mrs. Wilson saw she must. This, however, did not prevent her from
apologizing for her departure, and on the door-step still another
important subject was to be considered: the kindness of Mrs.
Wilson in staying with David. Mrs. Wilson averred that such
trifles were not to be spoken of. It was nothing at all. It had
been no trouble, indeed it had not; it had been a pleasure. Mrs.
Wilson said she believed in being neighborly.

Finally, when the merits of being neighborly had been
exhaustively commented upon, the women again made preparation to
bid each other good-evening.

"Come over and see us."

"Yes, thank you, I shall."

"Come over any time."

"Yes, I shall, thank you, and _you_ come over. Don't wait for me.
I hardly go any place."

Mrs. Wilson was moving her broad and well-intentioned person
sidewise down the porch steps, which still shone wet in the broad
white light of the moon, already looking serenely out through the
changeful interstices of the breaking storm clouds. Miss Eastman
watched her safely to the bottom step, but I regret to say that
she went into the house even before her neighbor had disappeared
down the glistening front walk.

Alone at last! She sighed with relief, and in the darkness of the
silent house she stole to the door of David's room that she might
listen there with some slight motherly apprehension, and then
peep in at the little white figure on the bed, where the
moonlight lay asleep.

Behold David, not greatly changed in looks. The cutt