Dawn by Eleanor Porter (best finance books of all time TXT) 📕

all but two of them had been peeledand peeled and peeled, until there was nothing left but—peelings.

Susan was peeling the next to the last potato when the doctor camedown to the kitchen.

"Well?" She was on her feet instantly.

The doctor's face was grave, yet his eyes were curiously alight. Theyseemed to be looking through and beyond Susan.

"I don't know. I THINK I have good news, but I'm not—sure."

"But there's a chance?"

"Yes; but-" There was a moment's silence; then, with an indrawing ofhis breath, the doctor's soul seemed to come back from a long journey."I think I know what is the matter." The doctor was looking at Susan,now, not through her. "If it's what I think it is, it's a very raredisease, one we do not often find."

"But could you—can you—is it possible to—to cure it?"

"We can operate—yes; but it's six to half a dozen whether it'ssuccessful or not. They've just about broken even so far—the casesI've known about. But they've been interesting, most interesting." Thedoctor was far away again.

"But there's a chance; and if there is a chance I'd want to take it,"cried Susan. "Wouldn't you?"

There was no answer.

Susan hesitated, threw a hurried glance into the doctor's preoccupiedface, then hurried on again feverishly.

"Doctor, there's somethin' I've got to—to speak to you about beforeyou see Mr. Burton. It—it—it'll cost an awful lot, I s'pose."

There was no answer.

Susan cleared her throat.

"It—it'll cost an awful lot, won't it, doctor?" she asked in a loudervoice.

"Eh? What? Cost? Oh, yes, yes; it is an expensive operation." Thedoctor spoke unconcernedly. He merely glanced at Susan, then resumedhis fixed gaze into space.

"Well, doctor." Susan cleared her throat again. This time she caughthold of the doctor's sleeve as if to pull him bodily back to arealizing sense of her presence. "About the money—we haven't got it.An' that's what I wanted to speak to you about. Mr. Burton hain't gotany. He's already spent more'n he's got—part of next year's annual, Imean. Some day he'll have more—a whole lot more—when Mis' Holworthy,his third cousin, dies. 'Twas her husband that gave him the annual,you understand, an' when she dies it'll come to him in a plump sum.But 'tain't his now, an' 'course it won't be till she goes; an''course 'tain't for us to dodge her footsteps hopin' she'll jestnaturally stop walkin' some day—though I'm free to confess she haslost most all her facilities, bein' deaf an' lame an' some blind; an'I can't exactly see the harm in wishin' she had got 'em all back—inHeaven, I mean. But 'course I don't say so to him. An' as I saidbefore, we hain't got money now—not any.

"An'—an' his last pictures didn't sell any better than the others,"she went on a little breathlessly. "Then there was me—that is, I WASgoin' to get some money; but—but, well MY pictures didn't sell,either." She paused to wet her lips. "But I've thought it all out, an'there's a way.

You—you'd have to have Keith with you, somewheres, wouldn't you?"

"To operate? Oh, yes, yes."

"A long time?"

"Eh? What? Oh, yes, we would have to have him a long time, probably.In fact, time is one of the very biggest factors in such cases—forthe after-treatment, you know. And we must have him where we can watchhim, of course."

"Oh! Then that's all right, then. I can manage it fine," sighed Susan,showing by the way her whole self relaxed how great had been thestrain. "Then I'll come right away to work for you."

"To what?" The doctor suddenly came back to earth.

"To work for you—in your kitchen, I mean," nodded Susan. "I'll sendMr. Burton to his sister's, then I'll come to you, an' I'll comeimpaired to stay till I've paid it up—every cent."

"Good Heavens, woman!" ejaculated the man. "What are you talkingabout?"

"Oh, please, please don't say that I can't," besought Susan, herfearful eyes on his perturbed face. "I'll work real well—truly Iwill. An' I'm a real good cook, honest I am, when I have a super-abundance to do it with—butter, an' eggs, an' nice roasts. An' Iwon't bother you a mite with my poetry. I don't make it much now,anyhow. An'—oh, doctor, you've GOT to let me do it; it's the only waythere is to p-pay." Her voice choked into silence. Susan turned herback abruptly. Not even for Keith could Susan let any one see her cry.

"Pay! And do you think you'd live long—" Just in time the doctorpulled himself up short. Thrusting his hands into his pockets he tooka nervous turn about the kitchen; then sharply he wheeled about. "Mydear woman, let us talk no more about the money question. See here, Ishall be glad to take that boy into my charge and take care of him forthe sheer love of it—indeed, I shall!"

"Do you mean without ANY pay?" Susan had drawn herself up haughtily.

"Yes. So far as money goes—it is of no consequence, anyway. I'm glad—"

"Thank you, but we ain't charitable folks, Dr. Stewart," cut in Susancoldly. "Maybe it is infinitesimal to you whether we pay or not, but'tain't to us. We don't want—"

"But I tell you it's pay enough just to do it," interrupted the doctorimpatiently. "It's a very rare case, and I'm glad—"

A door banged open.

"Susan, hasn't that doctor—" a new voice cut in, then stopped short.

The doctor turned to see a pallid-faced, blond-bearded man withrumpled hair standing in the doorway.

"Mr. Burton?" hazarded the doctor crisply.

"Yes. And you-"

"Dr. Stewart. And I'd like a little talk with you, please—if you cantalk sense. "This last was added under his breath; but Daniel Burtonwas not listening, in any case. He was leading the way to the studio.

In the studio the doctor did not wait for questions, but plunged atonce into his story.

"Without going into technical terms, Mr. Burton, I will say that yourson has a very rare trouble. There is only one known relief, and thatis a certain very delicate operation. Even with that, the chances areabout fifty-fifty that he regains his sight."

"But there's a chance?"

"Yes, there's a chance. And, anyway, it won't do any harm to try. Itis the only thing possible, and, if it fails—well,