"
"I can, I think," said Lanse, thoughtfully. "We're to send them
general-delivery letters until they're settled, and father will get
those at the post-office and read them first."
"As to your other problems--housekeeping and all that, over which Celia
is several times more worried than over her own condition--can you
figure those out?"
"Yes, somehow."
"Good! Go up and tell her so. She thinks the house is going to
destruction without her. Good chance for the second violin. Too bad that
clever little orchestra will have to drop its practice for a few weeks.
I meant to run in some evening soon and hear you play. Well, I'm overdue
at the hospital. Good-by, Lanse--Doctor Churchill. Keep me posted
concerning the knee."
Then the busy surgeon, who had put off several engagements to come out
to the suburban town and look after the family of his old friend, whom
he had known and loved since their college days, was off in his
runabout, his chauffeur getting promptly under as much headway as the
law allows, and rushing him out of sight in a hurry.
Lanse turned to Doctor Churchill, who stood upon the porch beside him,
hat and case in hand.
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