University of Virginia Library

6. Part VI

Pliny, of the Riverside, watched carefully. Twice he applied his stethoscope. He snapped his fingers joyfully — a habit of his own.

"Just for an instant," he exclaimed,

"I was the least bit anxious, but he's coming out of it all right!"

Ephraim T. Ogilvie began to come out of it. He gurgled, shrieked, struggled like mad. He called out wildly for Irene — Irene!

Then he opened his eyes and looked about him. He was a quick-witted man — he had a head on his shoulders.

"Doctor," he queried, "how long did it take?"

A nurse consulted her wrist-watch.

"About five minutes for the operation," she returned, "but you've been under the influence of ether for maybe half an hour."

Ephraim T. Ogilvie waved his good arm.

"I want everybody out of this room except my son and daughter!" he cried. "Sorry to be rude to you, doctor, but it's a matter of life and death. I want my son and daughter. I want to talk to them alone!"

There was something in his voice that commanded obedience.

"Look here," he gasped, when the three of them were alone, "I've had a bad dream — a damnably bad dream. I've got to tell it to you now!"

They listened in frightened silence. His glance — his words — ate into them.

"We've got to cut down — we've got to retrench — while I'm still Ogilvie, and alive, instead of being Spalding, and dead, or practically dead. We've got to trim sail before — before you — "

Irene placed a cold hand upon his forehead.

"Agreed!" she cried. "We're game. Why didn't you say so before? I'll do my little bit."

Tod's face loomed up before his father's vision. Tod gulped; he had passed a bad hour or so since the accident.

"Look here, pop," he exclaimed, "it's a dead sure thing that I don't drive that gray devil any more! And I'm not built for a university." The young man rolled up his sleeves. "Take me down to the works," he added. "Let me start in at the bottom. As for the gray car, I know a chap in Boston who would give his eyes to get her — "

"Not in Boston!" said his father feebly. "That's where Rookers sold his cars — where you — "

There was a knock at the door. Irene answered it. A maid beckoned her into the hall.

"Mr. Blandy's down-stairs," she announced. "He'd like to speak to you for a moment."

Irene paled.

"Tell Mr. Blandy that I'm not at home!" she said.

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