"i'm not going to bed!" said medfield irritably. "i don't want to lie down. i'm tired of lying down!" he looked out of the window and scowled.

the nurse was silent a minute, regarding him thoughtfully. then she laid a light, cool hand on his wrist and her fingers found the pulse and held it.

"there's nothing the matter!" he said crossly.

"no, there doesn't seem to be." she released his wrist and went quietly out.

the millionaire's eyes followed her.... a shrewd flash came into them. the little annoyance had left his face; it had the keen, concentrated look that men who knew herman medfield did not care to see on his face—if they had business with him. it was the look that meant he was on the track of something or somebody.

he reached out to the bell.

[pg 184]

miss canfield came. she waited with an inquiring look.

"i should like to see mrs. holbrook," said medfield politely.

"aunt jane?" the nurse hesitated. "she's in the children's ward. is it something that can wait—or something i can do for you, sir?" her face was troubled.

he smiled at her reassuringly. "i want to see aunt jane— she will come, i think—if you tell her." he settled back comfortably in his chair and waited.

he did not look up when aunt jane came in. his head rested against the chair and his face was drawn in the look of pathetic distress and helplessness that calls for pity.

aunt jane took in the look with kindly glance.

"you've been having too much company," she said.

"i do feel rather done up," admitted medfield weakly.

"well, you better go right to bed—" aunt jane moved toward the door of the adjoining room.

"i'm not going to bed," said medfield.

[pg 185]

aunt jane stood arrested——

"i want the doctor," added medfield warily.

"i'll send for him—soon as you get in," she said placidly. "you come right along."

"no." he put his hands on the arms of the chair and looked at her like a spoiled child.

aunt jane regarded him calmly. she went into the corridor and sent word for miss canfield to come to her office. then she went on to the office and took up the receiver and called dr. carmon's number; and stood waiting, with bent head, her cap strings reflective.

the head lifted itself—and her face focussed to the little black cup on the desk before her.

"it's about mr. medfield—herman g. medfield—yes." she said it severely into the blackness. "he won't do as he's told!"

her ear listened. "well, that's all right. but you'll have to come.... no, i don't know. he's cross—for one thing!... in half an hour, you say?... well, that will do, i guess—i can handle him that long."[pg 186] she smiled and hung up the receiver and turned to miss canfield and looked at her through her glasses.

"what is the matter with him?" she asked.

the nurse shook her head. "he was all right until half an hour ago. i took him his medicine then," she replied.

"it's the widow!" said aunt jane.

miss canfield glanced at her inquiringly. "the one who was——?"

"visiting him—yes. you saw her?"

miss canfield smiled. "yes."

aunt jane nodded. "she's done it, somehow." her face grew reflective. "i hadn't ought to have let her in," she said softly. "you had more sense than i did about that."

"i wondered a little why you did it," said miss canfield safely.

"well—" aunt jane considered. "i thought maybe he needed stirring up a little—so he would get along faster. i didn't mean to stir him up quite so much," she added reflectively. "i didn't know he'd act like this.... he's always making a fuss!" she added disapprovingly.

[pg 187]

miss canfield's face grew defensive. she turned it away. "i had thought he was a very good patient," she said quietly.

aunt jane's glance flashed at her. the muslin cap covered a question. "i don't know as he's any better than any other patient," she said, watching her critically.... "he ought to be good—with his suite—and everybody running and waiting on him all the time!"

a bell tinkled and buzzed on the board in the hall.

aunt jane's cap turned toward it. "that's him now, i suppose, wanting something!"

the nurse went to the board and scanned it. she reached up and threw off the number and turned down the hall toward suite a.

aunt jane's gaze followed her reflectively. then she turned to her desk. when dr. carmon arrived she was sitting quietly at work on her books.

"what's up?" he said brusquely as he came in.

"i hope you'll find out," said aunt jane. her tone was tranquil.

he shrugged his shoulders and removed his[pg 188] coat—throwing it carelessly across a chair. he took up his little black bag.

aunt jane regarded the coat disapprovingly. she went across and shook it out and laid it in neat folds.

"i think likely—it's a woman," she said, smoothing the coat.

he stopped abruptly and looked at her. "anybody been here?"

"yes—a widow."

the doctor grunted a little. "who let her in?"

"well—i don't know that she upset him," said aunt jane. "something did! you can find out, i guess." her gaze was approvingly mild.

he relaxed a little.

"you want i should come with you?" she asked.

"no," hastily, "i'll send for you—if i need anything. miss canfield's around, i suppose."

"yes, she's there, i guess. she's there most of the time," said aunt jane. her face was non-committal.

but he glanced at it sharply. then he went down to suite a.

[pg 189]

herman medfield, still sitting in his window, with the blue quilted gown wrapped about his legs, wore an unhappy expression.

dr. carmon scanned it. he set down the black bag and drew up a chair.

"what seems to be the matter?" he asked. he seated himself firmly in the chair and looked at his patient through keen glasses. all the little fine unconscious fibres that diagnosed a case for dr. carmon were alert and reaching out for signs; but the doctor himself looked as impassive as a stone jug, sitting in his chair, a hand on either knee—surveying herman medfield.

"what is the matter?" he said.

"i don't know." medfield's tone was indifferent. "i feel worse—general distress—heaviness."

"any pain?" the doctor's hand burrowing in his pocket had brought out the stethoscope.

he adjusted it to his ears and hitched his chair a little nearer. medfield made an obliging movement forward.

"stay where you are," said the doctor[pg 190] gruffly. he leaned forward and placed the little metal disks on the blue quilted gown and bent his head.

the two men were silent. medfield with his head against the back of the chair and his eyes closed was wondering guiltily what the two little flexible tubes were revealing to the listening ears.

and dr. carmon, behind an impenetrable scowling mask, was wondering what the devil had gone wrong with herman medfield. and he listened—not so much with his ears, as with those little inner senses that never deceived him if he trusted them.

he slipped off the stethoscope and sat up. "did you say you had pain?" he asked.

"a little." the tone was weary.

dr. carmon looked at him sharply. "whereabouts?"

medfield turned his head restively. "everywhere," he said. "up my back and shoulders—the right one—and in my head."

"your head aches, does it?" that was the outside question; and inside, all the little therapeutic fibres in dr. carmon's stubby figure were saying to him: "his head is as[pg 191] good as yours is, this minute! what's the matter with him? buck up—and find out!"

he put his hand on the patient's wrist. "what would you like for dinner?" he asked.

"i couldn't eat anything," said medfield passively.

"not a nice chop—with some asparagus and mayonnaise?" the doctor was watching the face.

medfield shook his head resolutely. "i don't feel like eating."

"very well." dr. carmon sat back and looked at him. "i think you'd better go to bed—and stay there for a while."

"you think i got up too soon?" medfield's voice was patient and full of acquiescence; it was very meek.

"i don't think anything," said dr. carmon gruffly. "but when a man can't eat, he'd better be in bed.... there's nothing the matter with you."

medfield's heart gave a quick little jump, and the doctor's hand that had strayed again to his wrist, counted it grimly.

"you're tired. that's all! had company?"

[pg 192]

"some one came in—yes. she only stayed a few minutes," he added virtuously.

"well." dr. carmon got up. "that didn't hurt you—probably. you'll be all right. how's the boy?"

"all right. he's generally here," replied medfield.

"doesn't tire you?"

herman medfield's eyes opened quickly. "i want him here!" he said sharply.

dr. carmon's thought followed the look swiftly. "it isn't the boy, but it's something about him. i'll see the boy."

he rang the bell. "i'd get to bed right away if i were you."

it was aunt jane who came leisurely in, glancing at the two men. "miss canfield's at dinner. she'll come pretty quick—if you need her."

"we don't need her. he's to go to bed for a while." the doctor nodded to herman medfield, who had got up from his chair, and was standing beside him.

the millionaire in his blue silk robe with the velvet girdle and tassel was a stately figure; and, for the second time, aunt jane[pg 193] had a lively sense of dr. carmon's short, uncouthness and rumpled clothes—there was a large grease spot on the front of his vest. her mind made a quick note of the spot while her eyes travelled placidly to herman medfield.

"i'm glad you've made up your mind," she said pleasantly.

he was moving toward the door of his bedroom. he stopped. "it isn't my mind. it's the doctor's mind that's made up," he replied suavely.

dr. carmon watched him and smiled a little and miss canfield, coming in the door, wondered what dr. carmon's smile meant.

aunt jane and the doctor returned to the office.... she faced him.

"what's the matter?" she said.

he shook his head. "just one of those things to keep you guessing." he shrugged his shoulders.

aunt jane's eye rested on the grease spot. "soap and water will take that off!" she said practically. she laid a finger on the spot.

the doctor doubled his chin to look down on himself.

[pg 194]

"have the water hot—and plenty of soap," said aunt jane.

he grunted, and drew his coat over the spot. "when i get time," he replied.