seraphic
face and dancing blue eyes and a mouth that loved to pucker in a pensive
whistle--in Mrs. Nesbit's never failing stumble over the child's eyes.

Any evening he would lay aside his Browning----even in a knotty passage
wherein the Doctor was wont to take much pleasure, and revert to type
thus:

"Yes, I guess there's something in blood as you say! The child shows it!
But where do you suppose he gets those eyes?" His wife would answer
energetically, "They aren't like Amos's and they certainly are not much
like Mary's! Yet those eyes show that somewhere in the line there was
fine blood and high breeding."

And the Doctor, remembering the kraut-peddling Mueller, who used to live
back in Indiana, and who was Kenyon's great-grandfather, would shake a
wise head and answer:

"Them eyes is certainly a throw-back to the angel choir, my dear--a sure
and certain throw-back!"

And while Mrs. Nesbit was climbing the Sands family tree, from Mary
Adams back to certain Irish Sandses of the late eighteenth century, the
Doctor would flit back to "Paracelsus," to be awakened from its spell
by: "Only the Irish have such eyes! They are the mark of the Celt all
over the world! But it's curious that neither Mary nor Daniel had those
eyes!"

"It's certainly curious like," squeaked the Doctor amicably--"certainly
curious like, as the treetoad said when he couldn't holler up a rain.
But it only proves that blood always tells! Bedelia, there's really
nothing so true in this world as blood!"

And Mrs. Nesbit would ask him a moment later what he could find so
amusing in "Paracelsus"? She certainly never had found anything but
headaches in it.

Yet there came a time when the pudgy little stomach of the Doctor did
not shake in merriment. For he also had his problem of blood to solve.
Tom Van Dorn was, after all, the famous Van Dorn baby!

One evening in the late winter as the Doctor was trudging home from a
belated call, he saw the light in Brotherton's window marking a yellow
bar across the dark street. As he stepped in for a word with Mr.
Brotherton about the coming spring city election, he saw quickly that
the laugh was in some way on Tom Van Dorn, who rose rather guiltily and
hurried out of the shop.

"Seegars on George!" exclaimed Captain Morton; then answered the
Doctor's gay, inquiring stare: "Henry bet George a box of Perfectos Tom
wouldn't be a year from his wedding asking 'what's her name' when the
boys were discussing s