The iron-gray head bent over the curly black one for a moment, as if the
strong man of the household found it hard to face the anxious eyes which
searched his, and would have liked, like his eighteen-year-old daughter,
to run to cover. But in an instant, he looked up again and spoke in the
cheery tone they knew so well.
"Now listen, and be brave," he said. "Mother's trouble is like a house
just set on fire. A dash of Water and a blanket--and it is out. Wait
till a whole room is ablaze, and it's a serious matter to stop it. Now,
in our case, we've only the little kindling corner to smother, and the
New Mexico air is water and blanket--a whole fire department, if need
be. The doctor assures me that with mother's good constitution, and the
absence of any hereditary predisposition to this sort of thing, we've
only to give her the ten or twelve months of rest and reenforcement--the
winter in New Mexico, the summer in Colorado--to nip the whole thing in
the bud. I believe him, and you must believe him--and me. More than all,
you must not show the slightest change of front to her.
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