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Page 68
"Amy, if you ever had your wits on call, have them this morning. In all
my life I never cared more how things went at a time like this. I care
so much I'd give about all I own to know this minute that the thing would
go through."
"Why, Dr. Burns," said she, in astonishment, "it should go through. It is
a critical operation, of course, but the boy seems in very fair shape for
it, and Dr. Leaver has done it before. Dr. Leaver is quite well now--"
"I know, I know. Feel of that!"
He touched her hand with his own, which was icy cold. She started, and
looked anxiously at him.
"Doctor, you can't be well! This isn't you--to be so--nervous! Why, think
of all the operations you've done, and never a sign of minding. And this
isn't even your responsibility--it's Dr. Leaver's."
"That's right, scold me," said he, trying to laugh. "It's what I need.
I'm showing the white feather, a hatful of them. But you're mistaken
about one thing. It _is_ my responsibility, every detail of it. Don't
forget that. If the case goes wrong, it's my fault, not Dr. Leaver's."
Then he walked away, leaving Miss Mathewson utterly dumbfounded. She
understood perfectly that Dr. John Leaver had suffered a severe breakdown
from overwork, and that this was his first test since his recovery. But
she knew nothing of the peculiar circumstances of his last appearance in
an operating-room, and could therefore have no possible notion of the
crisis this morning's work was to be to him. She did know enough,
however, to be deeply interested in the outcome, and she watched the
Green Imp flying down the road toward home with the sense that when it
returned it would bear two surgeons for whom she must do the best work
of support in her life.
"Ready, Jack?"
"Ready."
John Leaver took the seat beside Burns, giving the outstretched hand a
strong grip. He carried no hand-bag, there was no sign of his profession
about him. He had sent to Baltimore for his own instruments, but they
were waiting for him in the little operating-room at Sunny Farm, having
been through every rite practised by modern surgery.
The car set off.
"It's a magnificent morning," said Red Pepper Burns.
"Ideal."
"September's the best month in the year, to my fancy."
"A crisp October rivals it, to my notion."
"Not bad. There's a touch of frost in the air this morning."
"Quite a touch."
The car sped on. The men were silent. His one glance at his friend's face
had showed Burns that Leaver had, apparently, his old quiet command of
himself. But this, though reassuring, he knew could not be trusted as an
absolute indication of control within. For himself, he had never been
so profoundly excited in his life. He found himself wondering how he was
going to stand and look on, unemployed, yet ready, at a sign, to take the
helm. He felt as if that moment, if it should come, would find him as
unnerved as the man he must help. Yet, with all his heart and will, he
was silently assuring himself that all would go well--must go well. He
must not even fear failure, think failure, imagine failure. Strong
confidence on his own part, he fully believed, would be definite, if
intangible, assistance to his friend....
Rounding a curve in the road, the white outlines of Sunny Farm house
stood out clearly against the background of near green fields, and
distant purple hills.
"House gets the sun in great shape mornings," observed Burns.
"The location couldn't be better," responded Leaver's quiet voice.
The car swung into the yard. The two men got out, crossed the sward, and
stood upon the porch. Miss Mathewson met them at the door, her face
bright, her eyes clear, only a little flush on either cheek betraying
to Burns that she shared his tension.
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