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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/23379-h.zip b/23379-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b4ddfa3 --- /dev/null +++ b/23379-h.zip diff --git a/23379-h/23379-h.htm b/23379-h/23379-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a9e26a3 --- /dev/null +++ b/23379-h/23379-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1307 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Old Mr. Wiley, by Fanny Greye La Spina</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Old Mr. Wiley, by Fanny Greye La Spina</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Old Mr. Wiley</p> +<p>Author: Fanny Greye La Spina</p> +<p>Release Date: November 6, 2007 [eBook #23379]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD MR. WILEY***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan,<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<p>Transcriber note:<br /> +<br /> +This etext was produced from <i>Weird Tales</i>, March, 1951. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright +on this publication was renewed.</p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>Old Mr. Wiley</h1> + +<h2><i>BY GREYE LA SPINA</i></h2> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus" id="illus"></a> +<img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + + +<h3><i>Old Mr. Wiley and the dog came over every night ... but were they real?</i></h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + + +<p>"He just lies here tossing and moaning until he's so weak that he sinks +into a kind of coma," said the boy's father huskily. "There doesn't seem +anything particular the matter with him now but weakness. Only," he +choked, "that he doesn't care much about getting well."</p> + +<p>Miss Beaver kept her eyes on that thin little body outlined by the fine +linen sheet. She caught her breath and bit her lower lip to check its +trembling. So pitiful, that small scion of a long line of highly placed +aristocratic and wealthy forebears, that her cool, capable hand went out +involuntarily to soothe the fevered childish brow. She wanted suddenly +to gather the little body into her warm arms, against her kind breast. +Her emotion, she realized, was far from professional; Frank Wiley IV had +somehow laid a finger on her heartstrings.</p> + +<p>"If you can rouse him from this lethargy and help him find some interest +in living," Frank Wiley III said thickly, "you won't find me +unappreciative, Miss Beaver."</p> + +<p>The nurse contemplated that small, apathetic patient in silence. Doctor +Parris had warned her that unless the boy's interest could somehow be +stimulated, the little fellow would die from sheer lack of incentive to +live. Her emotion moistened her eyes and constricted her throat muscles. +She had to clear her throat before she could speak.</p> + +<p>"I can only promise to do my very best for this dear little boy," she +said hurriedly. "No human being can do more than his best."</p> + +<p>"Doctor Parris tells me you have been uniformly successful with the +cases he's put you on. I hope," the young father entreated, "that you'll +follow your usual precedent."</p> + +<p>"The doctor is too kind," murmured Miss Beaver with slightly lifted +brows. "I fear he gives me more credit than I deserve."</p> + +<p>"There I hope you're wrong. He calls you an intuitive psychic. It is +upon your intuitions that I'm banking now. My affection hampers me from +fathoming Frank's inner-most thoughts. If I were really <i>sure</i> what he +needed most, I'd get it for him if it were a spotted giraffe," declared +his father passionately. "But I'm unable to go deeply enough into his +real thoughts."</p> + +<p>"If his own father cannot think of something he would care for enough to +make him want to live, how can an outsider find out what he might be +wanting?" argued the nurse, a touch of resentment in her voice. "Would +not his own mother know what would make him want to take hold on life?"</p> + +<p>There was an awkward pause.</p> + +<p>"His mother," began Frank Wiley III and was interrupted by a light tap +on the door panel, at which he went silent, turning away as if relieved +to escape any explanation.</p> + +<p>The door swung open, permitting the entrance of a young and very pretty +woman, one who knew exactly what a charming picture she made in jade +negligee over peach pajamas. About her exceedingly well-shaped head +ash-blonde hair lay in close artificial waves. She was such a +distinctively blonde type that Miss Beaver could not control her +slightly startled downward glance at the dark child tossing on the bed. +Her upward look of bewilderment was met by Frank Wiley's faint smile.</p> + +<p>"He takes after the founder of our family," said he in a low, almost +confidential voice. "His great-grandfather was said to have had Indian +blood in his veins, as well as a touch of old Spain. The boy doesn't +look like his mother or me. He's a real throw-back."</p> + +<p>The pretty woman had come across the room, pettishly lifting her silk +clad shoulders. Through the straps of embroidered sandals red-tipped +toes wriggled. At the tumbled bed and its small restless occupant she +threw what appeared to Miss Beaver a distasteful glance, ignoring the +nurse entirely although she had not met her previously and must have +known that the strange young woman was the new night nurse.</p> + +<p>"Do come to bed, Frank," she urged crossly, placing a proprietary hand +on her husband's coat sleeve. "It won't do you any good to moon around +in here and it might disturb Francis."</p> + +<p>Miss Beaver stood by her patient's bed, her clear gray eyes full upon +young Mrs. Wiley. The nurse experienced a kind of disgust, together with +one of those uncomfortable intuitions upon the reliability of which +Doctor Parris was always depending. She knew, all at once, that Mrs. +Wiley was that strange type of modern woman which makes a cult of +personal beauty, taking wifehood lightly and submitting to maternity as +infrequently as possible.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you're right, Florry," the father conceded, with a last +solicitous look at the exhausted child. "Miss Beaver...?"</p> + +<p>The nurse nodded, her lips a tight red line.</p> + +<p>"It would be better for the patient if the room were quiet and +darkened," she said with decision.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When the door had closed behind the pair, Miss Beaver busied herself +making the child more comfortable for the night. She smoothed out the +cool linen sheets, drawing them taut under the wasted little body. She +bathed the hot face with water and alcohol. To all her ministrations the +child submitted in a kind of lethargy, speaking no word, making no sign +that he had noticed a different attendant. When she had quite finished, +he breathed a long sigh of relaxation; his quivering, weak little body +went suddenly limp, and Miss Beaver had a good scare as she bent over +him, trying to bring back that weary and reluctant spirit to its +exhausted mortal domicile.</p> + +<p>It was by then nearly half past seven. The child lay supine; +heavy-lidded eyes half opened upon this tormentress who had somehow +succeeded in calling him back into the dimly lighted room from the +shadows of Lethe's alluring banks. Miss Beaver, kneeling beside young +Frank's bed, talked tenderly to him in a soft monotone. She made all +manner of gratuitous promises, if only Frank would try like a good boy +to get well. She told him firmly that he could, if he wanted to. She +made her suggestions with gently persuasive voice, coloring all she said +with the warmth of a heart peculiarly open to the unknown needs of the +listless child. To those unknown needs she opened wide her spirit, +crying within for enlightenment and help.</p> + +<p>While she was thus occupied, she became aware of that sensation of being +watched that is so startling when one considers oneself alone. Without +rising, she turned her face quickly from the pillow of young Frank and +looked across the bed. A member of the household about whom Doctor +Parris had neglected to tell her was standing there, one finger on his +lips which, though firm, wore a reassuring smile that immediately +conveyed his warm friendliness. He was a well preserved elderly +gentleman of aristocratic mien, clad in a bright blue garment of odd +cut, his neck wound about with spotlessly white linen in lieu of a +starched collar. His high nose, raised cheek-bones, flashing black eyes +and olive skin contrasted in lively fashion with a heavy mane of white +hair. His eyes as well as his lips conveyed a kindliness which Miss +Beaver's answering smile reciprocated.</p> + +<p>Tapping his lips again with admonitory forefinger, the old gentleman now +produced, with a broad smile, something from beneath his right arm. +Leaning down, he set this carefully beside the listless child. As he put +it down, it gave a whining little cry.</p> + +<p>Young Frank's eyes widened incredulously. Miss Beaver kept him under +intent regard as he turned his dark head on the pillow to see what it +was that was sitting on the bed.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he cried in a kind of rapture and put one thin white hand outside +the covers to touch the small creature that now stood wagging a brief +tail in friendly fashion. "Is it mine?"</p> + +<p>The child looked up at the old gentleman who once more, with serious +mien and a significant movement of his head toward the door, gestured +for silence. The boy's eyes blinked once or twice; then with a weak but +ecstatic smile he laid a pale hand upon the furry coat of the little dog +that began to bounce about, licking the hand that caressed it.</p> + +<p>Miss Beaver told herself that the old gentleman had found a way to lay +hold on young Frank's reluctant spirit. She watched color creep into the +boy's face as he cuddled the little dog blissfully, and she drew a deep +breath of heart-felt relief when the heavy eyelids drooped and the boy +slipped off into a natural sleep, nothing like the heavy coma from which +she had struggled so hard to bring him back earlier that night.</p> + +<p>She looked up thankfully to meet the understanding gaze of the old +gentleman who with that gesture of admonishment bent over and picked up +the dog, tucked it under his blue-sleeved arm and went across the room +to the door. He did not speak but Miss Beaver received the vivid +impression that his visit would be repeated the following night; it was +as if her sensitive intuitions could receive and register a wordless +message from that other sympathetic soul.</p> + +<p>The following morning found the lad refreshed and improved. His first +waking thought was for the dog and in reply to his cautiously whispered +inquiry Miss Beaver whispered back that his grandfather (the strong +family resemblance made her sure it had been the boy's wise grandfather +who had found a means of rousing the child from an all-but-fatal +lethargy) had taken it with him but would bring it again that night. +Miss Beaver wondered at herself for promising this but felt somehow sure +that old Mr. Wiley would bring the pup without fail. She believed that +she had read indomitable determination in those piercing black eyes; she +knew inwardly that he would not rest until he had found that thing which +would give young Frank renewed interest in living.</p> + +<p>Although the child appeared, if anything, a trifle less apathetic the +following day and Miss Beaver felt that each succeeding visit of old Mr. +Wiley with the fox-terrier would give the lad another push toward +convalescence, yet the nurse did not feel inclined to mention openly +that secret visit in the dead of night. The old gentleman's finger +tapping his gravely smiling lips was one thing that restrained her; the +other was the irritation betrayed, ingenuously enough, by the boy's +mother during her early morning visit to the sickroom.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Young Mrs. Wiley looked especially pretty in a pleated jade sports +skirt, a white pullover sweater, a jade beret on her fair hair. Under +one arm she carried a small white Pomeranian about whose neck flared a +matching wide jade satin bow.</p> + +<p>"Well, how is Francis this morning?" she inquired briskly with the +determined manner of one dutifully performing an unpleasant task. "He +looks better, doesn't he?"</p> + +<p>Miss Beaver, to whom this inquiry was addressed, nodded shortly.</p> + +<p>The boy did not look at his pretty young mother after his first +indifferent glance as she entered the room. He lay in silence with +closed eyes and compressed lips, a most unchildlike expression on his +thin boyish face.</p> + +<p>"Look, Francis! See how sweet Kiki looks with this big green bow!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wiley dropped the Pomeranian on the bed. The dog snarled and +snapped viciously. Frank thrust out one hand and gave the animal a +pettish push. Bestowing a hard, cold glare on her son, Mrs. Wiley +snatched up the growling dog in high indignation.</p> + +<p>"There! I ask you, nurse, if that child isn't just unnatural. I thought +boys liked dogs. Francis is queer. I believe he actually hates Kiki." +She lifted the dog against her face, permitting it to loll its pink +tongue against her carefully rouged cheek. "Pwecious ... Was it muvver's +own pwecious ikkle Kiki? Francis," she addressed her son sharply, +"you'll have to get over your nasty ugliness to poor little Kiki. It's a +shame, the way you hate dogs!"</p> + +<p>"But I don't hate dogs!" cried the boy vehemently, his voice breaking +with indignant resentment. "It's just Kiki. I'd love to have a little +dog of my very own, Mother. If you'd only let me have a little dog of my +very own!" The faint voice died away in a sick wail. The boy's eyelids +closed tightly against gushing tears.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wiley gave a short exclamation of impatience.</p> + +<p>"Francis has the idea that a dirty mongrel would be nicer than a +beautiful pedigreed dog like Kiki," she cried disgustedly.</p> + +<p>"But why not try letting him have a dog of his own?" asked Miss Beaver +ill-advisedly, her interest getting the better of her. "Perhaps it would +give him interest enough ..."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" snapped Mrs. Wiley sharply. "I won't have street mutts +wandering around the house to irritate poor little Kiki. Nasty smelly +common mongrels with fleas. Indeed not. I'm surprised at you, nurse, for +making the suggestion."</p> + +<p>With that, young Mrs. Wiley removed her vivid presence from the room, +leaving Miss Beaver shrugging her shoulders and raising her eyebrows. +And the little boy crying softly, the sheet pulled over his dark head.</p> + +<p>"What's all this, Frankie?" asked the father's voice.</p> + +<p>"<i>She</i> won't let me have a dog of my own," sobbed the boy, coming out +from under the concealing sheet, lips a-quiver, eyes humid.</p> + +<p>Miss Beaver's lips compressed. He called his mother "She" as if she were +an outsider....</p> + +<p>Frank Wiley III stood for a moment looking at his son, then let himself +gently down on the edge of the bed, laying one big palm on the little +chap's hot forehead. He did not speak, just sat and stroked the fevered +brow with tenderness. On his face a dark look brooded. His eyes were +absent, unhappy.</p> + +<p>"Daddy, why couldn't I have just a <i>little</i> puppy of my own?"</p> + +<p>The father replied with obvious effort.</p> + +<p>"You know, Frankie, we have one small dog already," said he with forced +lightness.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Kiki!"</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you manage to make friends with Kiki?"</p> + +<p>"<i>She</i> doesn't really want Kiki to like me, Daddy." (Wise beyond his +years, marvelled Miss Beaver.) "Kiki doesn't really like little boys."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my God, Frankie, don't go to crying again! Don't you see that Daddy +can't quarrel with Mother over a dog? Try to get well, old man, and +we'll see then what we can do. How about a pony, son?"</p> + +<p>The little boy disappeared under the sheet, refusing to reply. Miss +Beaver could not bear his convulsive, hardly-controlled sobs, and turned +an accusing face upon Frank Wiley III.</p> + +<p>"Is it possible," she asked icily, "that Frank's mother would actually +refuse him so small a thing as a puppy, if it meant the merest chance of +his getting better?"</p> + +<p>The face turned to hers was gloomy, the voice impatient.</p> + +<p>"Oh, good God! Was ever a man in such a damnable situation? My dear Miss +Beaver, ask the doctor to tell you how much influence I have in this +household, before you blame me for not taking a firm stand with a woman +as nervous and temperamental as Mrs. Wiley. I'd give my life willingly +to bring my boy back to health but unhappily I'm not like the founders +of our family. Some day I'll show you our family album. You'll find it +easy to trace the strong resemblance Frankie has to his forebears. Its +the damnably high spirit he gets from them that is so stubbornly killing +him now."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>He rose, wheeled about and went to the door. Paused. Still with that +brooding dark look on his face he turned to her again.</p> + +<p>"If my death would make it any easier for Frank, I wouldn't hesitate a +moment. I'm a failure. It wouldn't matter. But I feel that by living and +watching over him I'm standing between my boy's development as an +individual, and the subtlest, softest peril that could possibly threaten +him. I would rather he died, if he cannot bring about what he wills for +his own development. As for me, I ... I am a dead man walking futilely +among the living."</p> + +<p>With that, he swung out of the room.</p> + +<p>Miss Beaver knelt by the boy's bed, murmuring persuasively to him as she +strove to make him check his hysterical sobs.</p> + +<p>"Frankie, you really must stop crying. You're too big a chap to cry and +it only makes you worse. If you're a good boy to-day and eat your food, +I'll let your grandfather bring the little dog tonight," she promised +rashly.</p> + +<p>The sheet turned down and Frank's reddened face peered at her +plaintively.</p> + +<p>"That was my <i>great</i>-grandfather," he assured her gravely.</p> + +<p>"Well, great or great-great, it's all the same," she conceded +good-humoredly.</p> + +<p>"Do you really think he'll bring Spot tonight?"</p> + +<p>"Of course he will. But you must eat your meals, take a long nap, and +stop crying."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I promise!" the boy cried eagerly.</p> + +<p>The day, Miss Beaver was told later, was uneventful. She had remained +with the day nurse until Doctor Parris had made his visit. The doctor +had been much pleased to find his small patient in good spirits and +congratulated himself upon having put Miss Beaver on the case.</p> + +<p>"If our young friend continues to improve like this, Miss Beaver," he +joked, "we'll have him playing football within a month." He lowered his +voice for her ear only. "Has anything particular come under your notice +that might account for this agreeable change?"</p> + +<p>Miss Beaver's forehead wrinkled slightly. She regarded the doctor from +narrowed, thoughtful eyes.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Doctor Parris, if it isn't asking too much, why Mr. Wiley is a +Man-Afraid-of-his-Wife?"</p> + +<p>The doctor could not repress an involuntary chuckle.</p> + +<p>"Come now, nurse, don't you think you're asking rather a good deal?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," retorted Miss Beaver shortly. "Nor do you think so, +either. What I'm trying to get at is, why Mr. Wiley lets Mrs. Wiley +prevent him from giving Frank a puppy that he wants?"</p> + +<p>The doctor regarded her thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"So it's a pup the boy wants. Ha, hum!" he uttered.</p> + +<p>"I'm asking you," she repeated impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Eh! Well! Mrs. Wiley, you have undoubtedly discerned, is one of +those self-centered egotists who simply cannot permit people to live any +way but her way. She won't have another dog in the house because it +might interfere with the comfort of that silly damn—excuse me—Pom of +hers. If Frank were a bit older and could feign a penchant for the Pom +and his mother got the idea that the animal's affection might be +alienated from her, she would at once get the child another dog, just to +keep him away from Kiki."</p> + +<p>"All of which sounds subtle but isn't very helpful," decided Miss Beaver +with unflattering directness. "I've told Mr. Wiley that I thought a dog +might interest his son and Mr. Wiley replies that his wife won't let him +get one. There is something more behind this and it's obvious you don't +want to tell me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, hang it, nurse! You always manage to get your own way with me, +don't you? I'll probably have to marry you one of these days, so I can +keep the upper hand," he grinned. "Well, then, Wiley is a weak sister +and oughtn't to be. He's completely under his chorus-girl wife's thumb. +He lost a good bit in Wall Street and what's left is in her name, so +he's got to watch his step until he's recouped his losses.</p> + +<p>"If he were like his father or his grandfather ... but he isn't," +snapped the doctor vexedly. "Now, this boy here, he's a throw-back, +young Frank is. He's the spittin' image of the founder of the family and +I'm willing to wager he's got the grit and determination that once +endowed old Frank Wiley I."</p> + +<p>"I've observed," murmured Miss Beaver, "that you and his father call the +boy Frank, while his mother refers to him as Francis."</p> + +<p>"That's her hifalutin way of putting on the dog, nurse," Doctor Parris +grinned wickedly. "His name on the birth certificate is Frank but she'd +make a girlish Francis of him if she had her own way. For some reason +she isn't getting it. Her husband sticks to the old family name of Frank +and the boy won't answer to Francis.</p> + +<p>"She has a healthy respect for the first old Frank Wiley. If you were to +see the family album, nurse, you'd be quick to catch the look in the old +boy's eyes. Nobody ever put anything over on that lad, believe me."</p> + +<p>"I've no doubt of that," thought Miss Beaver to herself, the indomitable +countenance of her midnight visitor clear before her mind's eye. It was +astonishing, that strong family resemblance. Aloud she snapped: "Family +album, indeed! What I'm after is to get permission for this child to +have a pet. I'm positive it would make all the difference in the world +to him."</p> + +<p>"You won't get permission, nurse. Mrs. Frank won't have any other pets +around to bother precious Kiki," he said grimly.</p> + +<p>"Not if it's a matter of life or death?" she persisted.</p> + +<p>"She would laugh at your putting it just that way," growled the doctor, +an absent expression stealing over his kindly face.</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll see what we'll see," observed Miss Beaver cryptically, her +mouth an ominous tight red line.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>The doctor suddenly spoke close to her ear, an odd note in his voice. +"I'm going to prescribe something very unusual, nurse. Tomorrow night a +covered basket will be delivered here for you. Take it into the boy's +room and open it if he wakens during the night. Understand?"</p> + +<p>"I can't say I do, Dr. Parris."</p> + +<p>"You will," he promised. "I'll take that basket and its contents when I +come around for my morning call. Unless," he told her grimly, "I can see +my way to make the prescription stick."</p> + +<p>It was with the utmost anxiety that Miss Beaver awaited the coming that +night of old Mr. Wiley. The day nurse had told her that Frank had eaten +a good lunch and what for him was a hearty supper. He had agreed to +sleep if he were awakened the moment Spot arrived, and Miss Beaver had +accepted his whispered offer. To her relief, he fell asleep immediately, +natural color on his thin cheeks.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wiley's light tap came on the door panel. She met his grave smile +with a soft exclamation of welcome. The small dog was tucked under one +arm and he paused to warn her with that admonitory touch of one finger +to his lips that the secret of his visits must be preserved. She nodded +comprehension, leaned over the sleeping boy and whispered softly in his +ear.</p> + +<p>He stirred, opened drowsy eyes. Then he pulled himself up on his pillow, +reaching thin hands out to the spotted dog which nipped playfully at +him.</p> + +<p>"Isn't he wonderful? When may I have him all the time?"</p> + +<p>"When you're well and don't need a night nurse," promised Miss Beaver +rashly and was rewarded by a broad smile from the courtly old gentleman +who tipped back his white-maned head and laughed silently but +whole-heartedly.</p> + +<p>"I'll get well at once, nurse. Don't you think I might be well enough +tomorrow? Or the day after? Not," he added politely, making Miss +Beaver's heart ache with his childish apology, "not that I want you to +leave, you know."</p> + +<p>"That will be for the doctor to decide, Frank. But the more you eat and +sleep and grow happy in your heart, the faster you'll get well," advised +Miss Beaver earnestly.</p> + +<p>For a long happy hour young Frank fraternized with the fox-terrier while +the old gentleman sat silently observing him, a grimly humorous smile +hovering about his firm lips. Then the boy's eyes began to cloud +sleepily and much to Miss Beaver's surprise and pleasure Frank +relinquished his canine playmate and fell asleep, a blissful smile +curving his childish mouth as he breathed with soft regularity.</p> + +<p>Then old Mr. Wiley picked up the puppy, tucked it under one blue-clad +arm and again admonishing Miss Beaver with a finger athwart his lips, +tiptoed from the room, closing the door behind very gently.</p> + +<p>The nurse thought with a sigh of relief that the old gentleman had +looked both pleased and gratified. She herself could hardly wait for +morning, and for the day to pass, and was both pleased and encouraged +herself when she went on duty the next night. Frank had asked to sit up +for supper and when Miss Beaver entered the room he manfully refused the +day nurse's assistance back to bed. The day nurse's up-lifted brows +betrayed her astonishment at the sudden turn for the better the young +patient had taken.</p> + +<p>"I'm almost well," piped up Frank Wiley IV, the moment the door closed +behind the day nurse. "Tomorrow, the doctor says, I can sit out in the +garden in the sun. Couldn't I have Spot then?"</p> + +<p>"You just leave that to me," said Miss Beaver determinedly. "I may have +much to say about your keeping Spot, Frank."</p> + +<p>In her heart she was in reality panic-stricken for she knew that pretty +Mrs. Wiley would indifferently laugh off the idea that ownership of a +dog could mean returned health to her little son. Upon Frank Wiley III +Miss Beaver felt no reliance could be placed; he was an uxorious +weakling. Her unfounded hope rested on old Mr. Wiley alone; old Mr. +Wiley whose firm mouth and implacable dark eyes made her feel that he, +and he alone, held the key to the situation. That he had realized young +Frank's need and had filled it, albeit in secret, gave her to believe +that he would also furnish such good reason for yielding to young +Frank's boyish yearning as would make Mrs. Frank retire in disorder from +any contest of clashing wills.</p> + +<p>But when the old gentleman stepped into the room that night he did not +carry the little dog under his arm; what he had was something bulkier. +He stopped beside the basket which had been sent to Miss Beaver and +which she had not yet opened. He leaned down and released the lid. A +little fox-terrier jumped out and stood, one small paw upheld, its head +cocked to one side.</p> + +<p>Miss Beaver drew in a quick gasping breath of admiring amazement at what +she realized was the doctor's unusual prescription. If only old Mr. +Wiley would stand by, to uphold it, she felt that the boy would recover. +She drew his attention with a gesture.</p> + +<p>"See how nicely our patient's coming along, Mr. Wiley," she whispered. +"Oh, please, won't you make them let him keep the little dog Doctor +Parris sent him? You can. I know you can."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Old Mr. Wiley leaned over the bed, apparently taking pleased note of the +faint color on the boy's cheeks. He smiled with obvious satisfaction. He +lifted his head, met Miss Beaver's pleading eyes, and nodded +emphatically. Then he slackened his hold on whatever he had tucked under +one arm and deposited it at the foot of the bed, meeting Miss Beaver's +questioning eyes with a significant narrowing of his own. She looked at +the thing, then up at him, puzzled. What he had brought in was one of +those huge, plush-covered atrocities with tall ivory letters on the +front that proclaimed it to be a Family Album. She surmised that this +must be the album which the doctor had said she should look over to note +how closely the small boy in the bed resembled his ancestors.</p> + +<p>With a light gesture old Mr. Wiley relegated the album to the +background, his glance seeking the fox-terrier that still hesitated in +the middle of the room. Miss Beaver understood. She gently wakened the +small patient, who sat up rubbing sleepy eyes expectantly. The dog, +sensing a play-mate, bounded upon the bed and began lapping at Frank's +eager fingers with small whimperings.</p> + +<p>"He loves me. Don't you, Spot? Look, nurse. He has black spots over his +eyes, bigger than I remembered them. And he seems littler tonight, +doesn't he? But he knows me. Gee, I wish I could keep him all the time."</p> + +<p>Old Mr. Wiley sat silently in a comfortable chair at the shadowy back of +the room as he had done on his previous visits but his severe old +features softened as he watched the happy child and the antics of the +little dog. When at last Frank's eyes grew humid and heavy with sleep, +and he began to slip down on his pillow, he clung to his canine +playmate, refusing to relinquish the puppy which had cuddled cosily +against him.</p> + +<p>Old Mr. Wiley's heavy brows lifted into a straight line over his high +nose. A grimly ironical smile drew up the corners of his mouth. He made +a gesture of resignation. His humorously twinkling eyes met the +consternation in Miss Beaver's but he appeared pleased and unmoved at +the prospect of the dog's remaining with the boy. He rose from his +comfortable chair, drew a deep breath, again touched the admonitory +finger to his lips and withdrew, still smiling. The door closed quietly +behind his stately blue-clad figure.</p> + +<p>Miss Beaver told herself agitatedly that he had no business to throw the +onus of the whole situation onto her shoulders; but even while she +resented this high-handed behavior she was inwardly aware with one of +her strong intuitions that old Mr. Wiley knew indubitably what he was +about, and that at the psychological moment he would justify her in +permitting the dog to remain with young Frank.</p> + +<p>She was in no hurry the following morning to turn over her patient to +the day nurse and lingered on in the hope that Doctor Parris would +appear early enough to get the dog away, as he had half hinted. That he +would do his best to make the prescription stick she saw immediately +after he took a single look at young Frank who sat up nimbly, his color +normal for the first time in weeks. The suppressed excitement in the +atmosphere Doctor Parris could hardly be expected to understand until +the boy drew back the covers to show the inquisitive black nose and +beady eyes hidden beneath.</p> + +<p>"Gee, Doctor Parris, isn't he just the cutest dog you ever saw?" +chuckled young Frank. "Oh, gosh, here <i>she</i> comes!"</p> + +<p>The cover was whipped over the dog, whose whimpers subsided with +uncommonly good sense. Perhaps young Mrs. Wiley might not have felt the +puppy's presence but Kiki's sharp nose was not so easily put upon. Kiki, +with a shrill bark, scrambled from her arms and leaped upon the bed +where he began scratching furiously at the cover which Frank was holding +desperately but vainly against this unexpected onslaught.</p> + +<p>"What on earth ..." began his mother, her eyes going from Kiki to Miss +Beaver's harried expression. "Oh! A nasty little dog right in Francis's +bed! Francis, push it out! It's probably full of fleas. How did that +nasty little mongrel get in here?"</p> + +<p>"This pup isn't a mongrel, Mrs. Wiley," snapped the doctor. "Anyone can +see with half an eye it's a pedigreed animal."</p> + +<p>She disregarded him. "Frank! Come here! Nurse, you should have known +better than to allow that horrid little mutt...."</p> + +<p>Frank Wiley III almost ran into the room, obviously distressed over +something quite different from his wife's trouble.</p> + +<p>"Somebody has meddled with one of our family portraits," he cried with +obvious agitation. "It's been damaged...."</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother the family portraits!" shrilled his wife, highly +exasperated. "Look at the nasty common dog this nurse has let Francis +have right in his bed! I never heard of such nerve! Call Mason! Have him +put this dog out immediately!"</p> + +<p>"I'll take the dog, if it's to be put out," growled Doctor Parris. "I +know a good dog when I see one," he muttered resentfully.</p> + +<p>"Let <i>me</i> see that dog!" exclaimed Frank Wiley III in a strangely grave +voice. He pushed the frantically excited Kiki from the bed to the floor. +He drew back the cover from the little dog huddled apprehensively +against young Frank's thin body. "Oh, good Lord! It's incredible! It +just isn't possible!"</p> + +<p>"Isn't it?" snapped his wife, looking with distastefully wrinkled nose +at her husband's chalky face, wide staring eyes. "Well, here it is and +out it goes. Ring for Mason, Frank, at once. I want this dirty little +mongrel out!"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Without paying the slightest attention, her husband turned to Miss +Beaver. As he did so, his staring eyes fell upon the ornate plush album +on the foot of the bed.</p> + +<p>"How did that get here?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Old Mr. Wiley brought it last night," admitted Miss Beaver, who was +feeling a trifle indignant at the old gentleman's defection.</p> + +<p>"Old Mr. Wiley?" echoed Doctor Parris; stupidly, for him, Miss Beaver +thought. "<i>Old Mr. Wiley?</i>"</p> + +<p>Frank Wiley III, his voice shaky, almost shouted at her.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to stand there and tell me that old Mr. Wiley was here and +brought that album?"</p> + +<p>"I may as well tell you now as ever," snapped Miss Beaver and +deliberately turned her back upon Mrs. Frank, addressing herself +pointedly to Doctor Parris and the boy's father. "The old gentleman has +been in here every night to see Frank since I've been on duty and he +brought his little dog, and in my opinion his little dog should get the +credit of any improvement in the patient's condition."</p> + +<p>Frank Wiley III picked up the bulky volume and began turning the thick +cardboard pages. His hands trembled; his face was queerly pasty.</p> + +<p>"Turn the pages yourself, nurse, will you? See if you can find old Mr. +Wiley's picture."</p> + +<p>Miss Beaver flipped the cardboard pages one after another until a +familiar face looked quizzically at her from a faded old daguerrotype. +She put on finger triumphantly on it.</p> + +<p>"Here he is. This is old Mr. Wiley."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Frank tiptoed nearer, took a single look, then with a shrill scream +fainted into Doctor Parris's convenient arms.</p> + +<p>He muttered under his breath: "Superstitious damsel, this." Of Miss +Beaver he asked drily as he deposited his fair burden distastefully in +the big chair where the old gentleman had been sitting on his nightly +visits: "My dear Miss Beaver, are you <i>very</i> certain old Mr. Wiley has +been dropping in of nights?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I am," declared Miss Beaver indignantly. "Is it so +astonishing that I recognize a face I've been seeing now for three +consecutive nights?"</p> + +<p>"This <i>is</i> unbelievable," Frank Wiley III gasped.</p> + +<p>Said the doctor gravely: "I ask you to be so very certain, nurse, +because the original of that picture has been dead for over fifteen +years."</p> + +<p>As those astonishing words fell on Miss Beaver's ears, she turned from +the doctor in sheer resentment.</p> + +<p>"I don't care for practical jokes," said she with dignity to the boy's +apparently stupefied father, "and I must say I resent being made sport +of. I tell you plainly that old Mr. Wiley, the man in this picture," and +she tapped her finger impressively on the album page, "has spent a +couple of hours with Frankie and me every night since I've been on duty +here, and that's <i>that</i>!"</p> + +<p>"Then that's settled," exclaimed the boy's father in a loud and +determined voice. "The dog stays."</p> + +<p>As if miraculously restored, Mrs. Frank sprang to her feet.</p> + +<p>"Is that <i>so</i>? Well, my dear husband, I'm afraid you're sadly mistaken. +The dog goes!" She gave her husband glare for glare, the rouge standing +in two round spots on her white face.</p> + +<p>His look was one of active dislike. "We'll see about that, Florry. All +of you, come out into the hall. I want you to see something. Then let +anyone say Frank can't keep that dog!"</p> + +<p>He beckoned imperatively and they followed down the great staircase into +the great hall below, where he stopped under a gilt-framed oil portrait, +life size. His finger pointed significantly.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Miss Beaver deciphered the small label at the front of the massive +frame. The painting was a portrait of Frank Wiley I, the founder of the +Wiley family. Her eyes rose higher to really look at the picture for the +first time since she had been in the house. It was the living likeness +of old Mr. Wiley and it almost seemed to her that, as she stared, one of +his eyelids quivered slightly as if in recognition of her belated +admiration for his diplomatic procedure. Beside him on the painted table +one of his fine hands lay negligently or rather, seemed to be lying +higher than the table proper, resting on ... was it just bare canvas?</p> + +<p>"Look for yourself, Florry! Where is the fox-terrier that was painted +sitting on the table under Grandfather's hand?"</p> + +<p>Young Mrs. Wiley stared pallidly at the likeness of the founder of the +Wiley clan. "White paint," she conjectured. Then, peering closer at the +canvas: "Somebody's scraped off the paint where the dog used to be."</p> + +<p>Stiff and grim, his own man now, her husband faced her.</p> + +<p>"Does my boy keep that dog?"</p> + +<p>Behind them sounded a low exclamation. At the head of the staircase +stood young Frank, the puppy tucked securely under one arm.</p> + +<p>"Nobody's going to take away my little dog that Great-grandfather Wiley +brought me," cried the lad stoutly, black eyes flashing, thin face +determined and unyielding.</p> + +<p>"Don't let that dog come near me!" screamed Mrs. Frank and went into a +genuine attack of hysteria. "He isn't <i>real</i>!"</p> + +<p>Doctor Parris exchanged a look with Miss Beaver, whose face was pale but +contented.</p> + +<p>"I always knew you were psychic," he whispered, brows drawn into a +puzzled scowl. "That's how the old gentleman, God rest his wilful soul, +could get through."</p> + +<p>"I wondered that he never spoke a single word! Now that it's over, I +think I'm going to faint," decided Miss Beaver shakily.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," snapped the doctor with scant courtesy. "But <i>she</i> is well +scared, thank God. I hardly think she will interfere much in future with +young Frank. And by the looks of him, the boy's father has had his +backbone stiffened considerably."</p> + +<p>"That painted dog?" whispered Miss Beaver's tremulous lips.</p> + +<p>"Eh? Yes. Ah, yes, the dog," murmured the doctor, too casually.</p> + +<p>"You—you—dared!" uttered Miss Beaver incoherently under her breath.</p> + +<p>"Not altogether," he protested against her ear.</p> + +<p>He pointed upward. Miss Beaver's eyes followed that gesture and met the +admonitory, inscrutable, but very gratified pictured eyes of old Mr. +Wiley.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD MR. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Old Mr. Wiley + + +Author: Fanny Greye La Spina + + + +Release Date: November 6, 2007 [eBook #23379] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD MR. WILEY*** + + +E-text prepared by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg +Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 23379-h.htm or 23379-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/3/7/23379/23379-h/23379-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/3/7/23379/23379-h.zip) + + +Transcriber note: + + This etext was produced from Weird Tales, March, 1951. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that + the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. + + + + + +OLD MR. WILEY + +by + +GREYE LA SPINA + + + + + + + +[Illustration: _Old Mr. Wiley and the dog came over every night ... but +were they real?_] + + +"He just lies here tossing and moaning until he's so weak that he sinks +into a kind of coma," said the boy's father huskily. "There doesn't seem +anything particular the matter with him now but weakness. Only," he +choked, "that he doesn't care much about getting well." + +Miss Beaver kept her eyes on that thin little body outlined by the fine +linen sheet. She caught her breath and bit her lower lip to check its +trembling. So pitiful, that small scion of a long line of highly placed +aristocratic and wealthy forebears, that her cool, capable hand went out +involuntarily to soothe the fevered childish brow. She wanted suddenly +to gather the little body into her warm arms, against her kind breast. +Her emotion, she realized, was far from professional; Frank Wiley IV had +somehow laid a finger on her heartstrings. + +"If you can rouse him from this lethargy and help him find some interest +in living," Frank Wiley III said thickly, "you won't find me +unappreciative, Miss Beaver." + +The nurse contemplated that small, apathetic patient in silence. Doctor +Parris had warned her that unless the boy's interest could somehow be +stimulated, the little fellow would die from sheer lack of incentive to +live. Her emotion moistened her eyes and constricted her throat muscles. +She had to clear her throat before she could speak. + +"I can only promise to do my very best for this dear little boy," she +said hurriedly. "No human being can do more than his best." + +"Doctor Parris tells me you have been uniformly successful with the +cases he's put you on. I hope," the young father entreated, "that you'll +follow your usual precedent." + +"The doctor is too kind," murmured Miss Beaver with slightly lifted +brows. "I fear he gives me more credit than I deserve." + +"There I hope you're wrong. He calls you an intuitive psychic. It is +upon your intuitions that I'm banking now. My affection hampers me from +fathoming Frank's inner-most thoughts. If I were really _sure_ what he +needed most, I'd get it for him if it were a spotted giraffe," declared +his father passionately. "But I'm unable to go deeply enough into his +real thoughts." + +"If his own father cannot think of something he would care for enough to +make him want to live, how can an outsider find out what he might be +wanting?" argued the nurse, a touch of resentment in her voice. "Would +not his own mother know what would make him want to take hold on life?" + +There was an awkward pause. + +"His mother," began Frank Wiley III and was interrupted by a light tap +on the door panel, at which he went silent, turning away as if relieved +to escape any explanation. + +The door swung open, permitting the entrance of a young and very pretty +woman, one who knew exactly what a charming picture she made in jade +negligee over peach pajamas. About her exceedingly well-shaped head +ash-blonde hair lay in close artificial waves. She was such a +distinctively blonde type that Miss Beaver could not control her +slightly startled downward glance at the dark child tossing on the bed. +Her upward look of bewilderment was met by Frank Wiley's faint smile. + +"He takes after the founder of our family," said he in a low, almost +confidential voice. "His great-grandfather was said to have had Indian +blood in his veins, as well as a touch of old Spain. The boy doesn't +look like his mother or me. He's a real throw-back." + +The pretty woman had come across the room, pettishly lifting her silk +clad shoulders. Through the straps of embroidered sandals red-tipped +toes wriggled. At the tumbled bed and its small restless occupant she +threw what appeared to Miss Beaver a distasteful glance, ignoring the +nurse entirely although she had not met her previously and must have +known that the strange young woman was the new night nurse. + +"Do come to bed, Frank," she urged crossly, placing a proprietary hand +on her husband's coat sleeve. "It won't do you any good to moon around +in here and it might disturb Francis." + +Miss Beaver stood by her patient's bed, her clear gray eyes full upon +young Mrs. Wiley. The nurse experienced a kind of disgust, together with +one of those uncomfortable intuitions upon the reliability of which +Doctor Parris was always depending. She knew, all at once, that Mrs. +Wiley was that strange type of modern woman which makes a cult of +personal beauty, taking wifehood lightly and submitting to maternity as +infrequently as possible. + +"I suppose you're right, Florry," the father conceded, with a last +solicitous look at the exhausted child. "Miss Beaver...?" + +The nurse nodded, her lips a tight red line. + +"It would be better for the patient if the room were quiet and +darkened," she said with decision. + + * * * * * + +When the door had closed behind the pair, Miss Beaver busied herself +making the child more comfortable for the night. She smoothed out the +cool linen sheets, drawing them taut under the wasted little body. She +bathed the hot face with water and alcohol. To all her ministrations the +child submitted in a kind of lethargy, speaking no word, making no sign +that he had noticed a different attendant. When she had quite finished, +he breathed a long sigh of relaxation; his quivering, weak little body +went suddenly limp, and Miss Beaver had a good scare as she bent over +him, trying to bring back that weary and reluctant spirit to its +exhausted mortal domicile. + +It was by then nearly half past seven. The child lay supine; +heavy-lidded eyes half opened upon this tormentress who had somehow +succeeded in calling him back into the dimly lighted room from the +shadows of Lethe's alluring banks. Miss Beaver, kneeling beside young +Frank's bed, talked tenderly to him in a soft monotone. She made all +manner of gratuitous promises, if only Frank would try like a good boy +to get well. She told him firmly that he could, if he wanted to. She +made her suggestions with gently persuasive voice, coloring all she said +with the warmth of a heart peculiarly open to the unknown needs of the +listless child. To those unknown needs she opened wide her spirit, +crying within for enlightenment and help. + +While she was thus occupied, she became aware of that sensation of being +watched that is so startling when one considers oneself alone. Without +rising, she turned her face quickly from the pillow of young Frank and +looked across the bed. A member of the household about whom Doctor +Parris had neglected to tell her was standing there, one finger on his +lips which, though firm, wore a reassuring smile that immediately +conveyed his warm friendliness. He was a well preserved elderly +gentleman of aristocratic mien, clad in a bright blue garment of odd +cut, his neck wound about with spotlessly white linen in lieu of a +starched collar. His high nose, raised cheek-bones, flashing black eyes +and olive skin contrasted in lively fashion with a heavy mane of white +hair. His eyes as well as his lips conveyed a kindliness which Miss +Beaver's answering smile reciprocated. + +Tapping his lips again with admonitory forefinger, the old gentleman now +produced, with a broad smile, something from beneath his right arm. +Leaning down, he set this carefully beside the listless child. As he put +it down, it gave a whining little cry. + +Young Frank's eyes widened incredulously. Miss Beaver kept him under +intent regard as he turned his dark head on the pillow to see what it +was that was sitting on the bed. + +"Oh!" he cried in a kind of rapture and put one thin white hand outside +the covers to touch the small creature that now stood wagging a brief +tail in friendly fashion. "Is it mine?" + +The child looked up at the old gentleman who once more, with serious +mien and a significant movement of his head toward the door, gestured +for silence. The boy's eyes blinked once or twice; then with a weak but +ecstatic smile he laid a pale hand upon the furry coat of the little dog +that began to bounce about, licking the hand that caressed it. + +Miss Beaver told herself that the old gentleman had found a way to lay +hold on young Frank's reluctant spirit. She watched color creep into the +boy's face as he cuddled the little dog blissfully, and she drew a deep +breath of heart-felt relief when the heavy eyelids drooped and the boy +slipped off into a natural sleep, nothing like the heavy coma from which +she had struggled so hard to bring him back earlier that night. + +She looked up thankfully to meet the understanding gaze of the old +gentleman who with that gesture of admonishment bent over and picked up +the dog, tucked it under his blue-sleeved arm and went across the room +to the door. He did not speak but Miss Beaver received the vivid +impression that his visit would be repeated the following night; it was +as if her sensitive intuitions could receive and register a wordless +message from that other sympathetic soul. + +The following morning found the lad refreshed and improved. His first +waking thought was for the dog and in reply to his cautiously whispered +inquiry Miss Beaver whispered back that his grandfather (the strong +family resemblance made her sure it had been the boy's wise grandfather +who had found a means of rousing the child from an all-but-fatal +lethargy) had taken it with him but would bring it again that night. +Miss Beaver wondered at herself for promising this but felt somehow sure +that old Mr. Wiley would bring the pup without fail. She believed that +she had read indomitable determination in those piercing black eyes; she +knew inwardly that he would not rest until he had found that thing which +would give young Frank renewed interest in living. + +Although the child appeared, if anything, a trifle less apathetic the +following day and Miss Beaver felt that each succeeding visit of old Mr. +Wiley with the fox-terrier would give the lad another push toward +convalescence, yet the nurse did not feel inclined to mention openly +that secret visit in the dead of night. The old gentleman's finger +tapping his gravely smiling lips was one thing that restrained her; the +other was the irritation betrayed, ingenuously enough, by the boy's +mother during her early morning visit to the sickroom. + + * * * * * + +Young Mrs. Wiley looked especially pretty in a pleated jade sports +skirt, a white pullover sweater, a jade beret on her fair hair. Under +one arm she carried a small white Pomeranian about whose neck flared a +matching wide jade satin bow. + +"Well, how is Francis this morning?" she inquired briskly with the +determined manner of one dutifully performing an unpleasant task. "He +looks better, doesn't he?" + +Miss Beaver, to whom this inquiry was addressed, nodded shortly. + +The boy did not look at his pretty young mother after his first +indifferent glance as she entered the room. He lay in silence with +closed eyes and compressed lips, a most unchildlike expression on his +thin boyish face. + +"Look, Francis! See how sweet Kiki looks with this big green bow!" + +Mrs. Wiley dropped the Pomeranian on the bed. The dog snarled and +snapped viciously. Frank thrust out one hand and gave the animal a +pettish push. Bestowing a hard, cold glare on her son, Mrs. Wiley +snatched up the growling dog in high indignation. + +"There! I ask you, nurse, if that child isn't just unnatural. I thought +boys liked dogs. Francis is queer. I believe he actually hates Kiki." +She lifted the dog against her face, permitting it to loll its pink +tongue against her carefully rouged cheek. "Pwecious ... Was it muvver's +own pwecious ikkle Kiki? Francis," she addressed her son sharply, +"you'll have to get over your nasty ugliness to poor little Kiki. It's a +shame, the way you hate dogs!" + +"But I don't hate dogs!" cried the boy vehemently, his voice breaking +with indignant resentment. "It's just Kiki. I'd love to have a little +dog of my very own, Mother. If you'd only let me have a little dog of my +very own!" The faint voice died away in a sick wail. The boy's eyelids +closed tightly against gushing tears. + +Mrs. Wiley gave a short exclamation of impatience. + +"Francis has the idea that a dirty mongrel would be nicer than a +beautiful pedigreed dog like Kiki," she cried disgustedly. + +"But why not try letting him have a dog of his own?" asked Miss Beaver +ill-advisedly, her interest getting the better of her. "Perhaps it would +give him interest enough ..." + +"Nonsense!" snapped Mrs. Wiley sharply. "I won't have street mutts +wandering around the house to irritate poor little Kiki. Nasty smelly +common mongrels with fleas. Indeed not. I'm surprised at you, nurse, for +making the suggestion." + +With that, young Mrs. Wiley removed her vivid presence from the room, +leaving Miss Beaver shrugging her shoulders and raising her eyebrows. +And the little boy crying softly, the sheet pulled over his dark head. + +"What's all this, Frankie?" asked the father's voice. + +"_She_ won't let me have a dog of my own," sobbed the boy, coming out +from under the concealing sheet, lips a-quiver, eyes humid. + +Miss Beaver's lips compressed. He called his mother "She" as if she were +an outsider.... + +Frank Wiley III stood for a moment looking at his son, then let himself +gently down on the edge of the bed, laying one big palm on the little +chap's hot forehead. He did not speak, just sat and stroked the fevered +brow with tenderness. On his face a dark look brooded. His eyes were +absent, unhappy. + +"Daddy, why couldn't I have just a _little_ puppy of my own?" + +The father replied with obvious effort. + +"You know, Frankie, we have one small dog already," said he with forced +lightness. + +"Oh! Kiki!" + +"Couldn't you manage to make friends with Kiki?" + +"_She_ doesn't really want Kiki to like me, Daddy." (Wise beyond his +years, marvelled Miss Beaver.) "Kiki doesn't really like little boys." + +"Oh, my God, Frankie, don't go to crying again! Don't you see that Daddy +can't quarrel with Mother over a dog? Try to get well, old man, and +we'll see then what we can do. How about a pony, son?" + +The little boy disappeared under the sheet, refusing to reply. Miss +Beaver could not bear his convulsive, hardly-controlled sobs, and turned +an accusing face upon Frank Wiley III. + +"Is it possible," she asked icily, "that Frank's mother would actually +refuse him so small a thing as a puppy, if it meant the merest chance of +his getting better?" + +The face turned to hers was gloomy, the voice impatient. + +"Oh, good God! Was ever a man in such a damnable situation? My dear Miss +Beaver, ask the doctor to tell you how much influence I have in this +household, before you blame me for not taking a firm stand with a woman +as nervous and temperamental as Mrs. Wiley. I'd give my life willingly +to bring my boy back to health but unhappily I'm not like the founders +of our family. Some day I'll show you our family album. You'll find it +easy to trace the strong resemblance Frankie has to his forebears. Its +the damnably high spirit he gets from them that is so stubbornly killing +him now." + + * * * * * + +He rose, wheeled about and went to the door. Paused. Still with that +brooding dark look on his face he turned to her again. + +"If my death would make it any easier for Frank, I wouldn't hesitate a +moment. I'm a failure. It wouldn't matter. But I feel that by living and +watching over him I'm standing between my boy's development as an +individual, and the subtlest, softest peril that could possibly threaten +him. I would rather he died, if he cannot bring about what he wills for +his own development. As for me, I ... I am a dead man walking futilely +among the living." + +With that, he swung out of the room. + +Miss Beaver knelt by the boy's bed, murmuring persuasively to him as she +strove to make him check his hysterical sobs. + +"Frankie, you really must stop crying. You're too big a chap to cry and +it only makes you worse. If you're a good boy to-day and eat your food, +I'll let your grandfather bring the little dog tonight," she promised +rashly. + +The sheet turned down and Frank's reddened face peered at her +plaintively. + +"That was my _great_-grandfather," he assured her gravely. + +"Well, great or great-great, it's all the same," she conceded +good-humoredly. + +"Do you really think he'll bring Spot tonight?" + +"Of course he will. But you must eat your meals, take a long nap, and +stop crying." + +"Oh, I promise!" the boy cried eagerly. + +The day, Miss Beaver was told later, was uneventful. She had remained +with the day nurse until Doctor Parris had made his visit. The doctor +had been much pleased to find his small patient in good spirits and +congratulated himself upon having put Miss Beaver on the case. + +"If our young friend continues to improve like this, Miss Beaver," he +joked, "we'll have him playing football within a month." He lowered his +voice for her ear only. "Has anything particular come under your notice +that might account for this agreeable change?" + +Miss Beaver's forehead wrinkled slightly. She regarded the doctor from +narrowed, thoughtful eyes. + +"Tell me, Doctor Parris, if it isn't asking too much, why Mr. Wiley is a +Man-Afraid-of-his-Wife?" + +The doctor could not repress an involuntary chuckle. + +"Come now, nurse, don't you think you're asking rather a good deal?" + +"No, I don't," retorted Miss Beaver shortly. "Nor do you think so, +either. What I'm trying to get at is, why Mr. Wiley lets Mrs. Wiley +prevent him from giving Frank a puppy that he wants?" + +The doctor regarded her thoughtfully. + +"So it's a pup the boy wants. Ha, hum!" he uttered. + +"I'm asking you," she repeated impatiently. + +"Oh! Eh! Well! Mrs. Wiley, you have undoubtedly discerned, is one of +those self-centered egotists who simply cannot permit people to live any +way but her way. She won't have another dog in the house because it +might interfere with the comfort of that silly damn--excuse me--Pom of +hers. If Frank were a bit older and could feign a penchant for the Pom +and his mother got the idea that the animal's affection might be +alienated from her, she would at once get the child another dog, just to +keep him away from Kiki." + +"All of which sounds subtle but isn't very helpful," decided Miss Beaver +with unflattering directness. "I've told Mr. Wiley that I thought a dog +might interest his son and Mr. Wiley replies that his wife won't let him +get one. There is something more behind this and it's obvious you don't +want to tell me." + +"Oh, hang it, nurse! You always manage to get your own way with me, +don't you? I'll probably have to marry you one of these days, so I can +keep the upper hand," he grinned. "Well, then, Wiley is a weak sister +and oughtn't to be. He's completely under his chorus-girl wife's thumb. +He lost a good bit in Wall Street and what's left is in her name, so +he's got to watch his step until he's recouped his losses. + +"If he were like his father or his grandfather ... but he isn't," +snapped the doctor vexedly. "Now, this boy here, he's a throw-back, +young Frank is. He's the spittin' image of the founder of the family and +I'm willing to wager he's got the grit and determination that once +endowed old Frank Wiley I." + +"I've observed," murmured Miss Beaver, "that you and his father call the +boy Frank, while his mother refers to him as Francis." + +"That's her hifalutin way of putting on the dog, nurse," Doctor Parris +grinned wickedly. "His name on the birth certificate is Frank but she'd +make a girlish Francis of him if she had her own way. For some reason +she isn't getting it. Her husband sticks to the old family name of Frank +and the boy won't answer to Francis. + +"She has a healthy respect for the first old Frank Wiley. If you were to +see the family album, nurse, you'd be quick to catch the look in the old +boy's eyes. Nobody ever put anything over on that lad, believe me." + +"I've no doubt of that," thought Miss Beaver to herself, the indomitable +countenance of her midnight visitor clear before her mind's eye. It was +astonishing, that strong family resemblance. Aloud she snapped: "Family +album, indeed! What I'm after is to get permission for this child to +have a pet. I'm positive it would make all the difference in the world +to him." + +"You won't get permission, nurse. Mrs. Frank won't have any other pets +around to bother precious Kiki," he said grimly. + +"Not if it's a matter of life or death?" she persisted. + +"She would laugh at your putting it just that way," growled the doctor, +an absent expression stealing over his kindly face. + +"Well, we'll see what we'll see," observed Miss Beaver cryptically, her +mouth an ominous tight red line. + + * * * * * + +The doctor suddenly spoke close to her ear, an odd note in his voice. +"I'm going to prescribe something very unusual, nurse. Tomorrow night a +covered basket will be delivered here for you. Take it into the boy's +room and open it if he wakens during the night. Understand?" + +"I can't say I do, Dr. Parris." + +"You will," he promised. "I'll take that basket and its contents when I +come around for my morning call. Unless," he told her grimly, "I can see +my way to make the prescription stick." + +It was with the utmost anxiety that Miss Beaver awaited the coming that +night of old Mr. Wiley. The day nurse had told her that Frank had eaten +a good lunch and what for him was a hearty supper. He had agreed to +sleep if he were awakened the moment Spot arrived, and Miss Beaver had +accepted his whispered offer. To her relief, he fell asleep immediately, +natural color on his thin cheeks. + +Mr. Wiley's light tap came on the door panel. She met his grave smile +with a soft exclamation of welcome. The small dog was tucked under one +arm and he paused to warn her with that admonitory touch of one finger +to his lips that the secret of his visits must be preserved. She nodded +comprehension, leaned over the sleeping boy and whispered softly in his +ear. + +He stirred, opened drowsy eyes. Then he pulled himself up on his pillow, +reaching thin hands out to the spotted dog which nipped playfully at +him. + +"Isn't he wonderful? When may I have him all the time?" + +"When you're well and don't need a night nurse," promised Miss Beaver +rashly and was rewarded by a broad smile from the courtly old gentleman +who tipped back his white-maned head and laughed silently but +whole-heartedly. + +"I'll get well at once, nurse. Don't you think I might be well enough +tomorrow? Or the day after? Not," he added politely, making Miss +Beaver's heart ache with his childish apology, "not that I want you to +leave, you know." + +"That will be for the doctor to decide, Frank. But the more you eat and +sleep and grow happy in your heart, the faster you'll get well," advised +Miss Beaver earnestly. + +For a long happy hour young Frank fraternized with the fox-terrier while +the old gentleman sat silently observing him, a grimly humorous smile +hovering about his firm lips. Then the boy's eyes began to cloud +sleepily and much to Miss Beaver's surprise and pleasure Frank +relinquished his canine playmate and fell asleep, a blissful smile +curving his childish mouth as he breathed with soft regularity. + +Then old Mr. Wiley picked up the puppy, tucked it under one blue-clad +arm and again admonishing Miss Beaver with a finger athwart his lips, +tiptoed from the room, closing the door behind very gently. + +The nurse thought with a sigh of relief that the old gentleman had +looked both pleased and gratified. She herself could hardly wait for +morning, and for the day to pass, and was both pleased and encouraged +herself when she went on duty the next night. Frank had asked to sit up +for supper and when Miss Beaver entered the room he manfully refused the +day nurse's assistance back to bed. The day nurse's up-lifted brows +betrayed her astonishment at the sudden turn for the better the young +patient had taken. + +"I'm almost well," piped up Frank Wiley IV, the moment the door closed +behind the day nurse. "Tomorrow, the doctor says, I can sit out in the +garden in the sun. Couldn't I have Spot then?" + +"You just leave that to me," said Miss Beaver determinedly. "I may have +much to say about your keeping Spot, Frank." + +In her heart she was in reality panic-stricken for she knew that pretty +Mrs. Wiley would indifferently laugh off the idea that ownership of a +dog could mean returned health to her little son. Upon Frank Wiley III +Miss Beaver felt no reliance could be placed; he was an uxorious +weakling. Her unfounded hope rested on old Mr. Wiley alone; old Mr. +Wiley whose firm mouth and implacable dark eyes made her feel that he, +and he alone, held the key to the situation. That he had realized young +Frank's need and had filled it, albeit in secret, gave her to believe +that he would also furnish such good reason for yielding to young +Frank's boyish yearning as would make Mrs. Frank retire in disorder from +any contest of clashing wills. + +But when the old gentleman stepped into the room that night he did not +carry the little dog under his arm; what he had was something bulkier. +He stopped beside the basket which had been sent to Miss Beaver and +which she had not yet opened. He leaned down and released the lid. A +little fox-terrier jumped out and stood, one small paw upheld, its head +cocked to one side. + +Miss Beaver drew in a quick gasping breath of admiring amazement at what +she realized was the doctor's unusual prescription. If only old Mr. +Wiley would stand by, to uphold it, she felt that the boy would recover. +She drew his attention with a gesture. + +"See how nicely our patient's coming along, Mr. Wiley," she whispered. +"Oh, please, won't you make them let him keep the little dog Doctor +Parris sent him? You can. I know you can." + + * * * * * + +Old Mr. Wiley leaned over the bed, apparently taking pleased note of the +faint color on the boy's cheeks. He smiled with obvious satisfaction. He +lifted his head, met Miss Beaver's pleading eyes, and nodded +emphatically. Then he slackened his hold on whatever he had tucked under +one arm and deposited it at the foot of the bed, meeting Miss Beaver's +questioning eyes with a significant narrowing of his own. She looked at +the thing, then up at him, puzzled. What he had brought in was one of +those huge, plush-covered atrocities with tall ivory letters on the +front that proclaimed it to be a Family Album. She surmised that this +must be the album which the doctor had said she should look over to note +how closely the small boy in the bed resembled his ancestors. + +With a light gesture old Mr. Wiley relegated the album to the +background, his glance seeking the fox-terrier that still hesitated in +the middle of the room. Miss Beaver understood. She gently wakened the +small patient, who sat up rubbing sleepy eyes expectantly. The dog, +sensing a play-mate, bounded upon the bed and began lapping at Frank's +eager fingers with small whimperings. + +"He loves me. Don't you, Spot? Look, nurse. He has black spots over his +eyes, bigger than I remembered them. And he seems littler tonight, +doesn't he? But he knows me. Gee, I wish I could keep him all the time." + +Old Mr. Wiley sat silently in a comfortable chair at the shadowy back of +the room as he had done on his previous visits but his severe old +features softened as he watched the happy child and the antics of the +little dog. When at last Frank's eyes grew humid and heavy with sleep, +and he began to slip down on his pillow, he clung to his canine +playmate, refusing to relinquish the puppy which had cuddled cosily +against him. + +Old Mr. Wiley's heavy brows lifted into a straight line over his high +nose. A grimly ironical smile drew up the corners of his mouth. He made +a gesture of resignation. His humorously twinkling eyes met the +consternation in Miss Beaver's but he appeared pleased and unmoved at +the prospect of the dog's remaining with the boy. He rose from his +comfortable chair, drew a deep breath, again touched the admonitory +finger to his lips and withdrew, still smiling. The door closed quietly +behind his stately blue-clad figure. + +Miss Beaver told herself agitatedly that he had no business to throw the +onus of the whole situation onto her shoulders; but even while she +resented this high-handed behavior she was inwardly aware with one of +her strong intuitions that old Mr. Wiley knew indubitably what he was +about, and that at the psychological moment he would justify her in +permitting the dog to remain with young Frank. + +She was in no hurry the following morning to turn over her patient to +the day nurse and lingered on in the hope that Doctor Parris would +appear early enough to get the dog away, as he had half hinted. That he +would do his best to make the prescription stick she saw immediately +after he took a single look at young Frank who sat up nimbly, his color +normal for the first time in weeks. The suppressed excitement in the +atmosphere Doctor Parris could hardly be expected to understand until +the boy drew back the covers to show the inquisitive black nose and +beady eyes hidden beneath. + +"Gee, Doctor Parris, isn't he just the cutest dog you ever saw?" +chuckled young Frank. "Oh, gosh, here _she_ comes!" + +The cover was whipped over the dog, whose whimpers subsided with +uncommonly good sense. Perhaps young Mrs. Wiley might not have felt the +puppy's presence but Kiki's sharp nose was not so easily put upon. Kiki, +with a shrill bark, scrambled from her arms and leaped upon the bed +where he began scratching furiously at the cover which Frank was holding +desperately but vainly against this unexpected onslaught. + +"What on earth ..." began his mother, her eyes going from Kiki to Miss +Beaver's harried expression. "Oh! A nasty little dog right in Francis's +bed! Francis, push it out! It's probably full of fleas. How did that +nasty little mongrel get in here?" + +"This pup isn't a mongrel, Mrs. Wiley," snapped the doctor. "Anyone can +see with half an eye it's a pedigreed animal." + +She disregarded him. "Frank! Come here! Nurse, you should have known +better than to allow that horrid little mutt...." + +Frank Wiley III almost ran into the room, obviously distressed over +something quite different from his wife's trouble. + +"Somebody has meddled with one of our family portraits," he cried with +obvious agitation. "It's been damaged...." + +"Oh, bother the family portraits!" shrilled his wife, highly +exasperated. "Look at the nasty common dog this nurse has let Francis +have right in his bed! I never heard of such nerve! Call Mason! Have him +put this dog out immediately!" + +"I'll take the dog, if it's to be put out," growled Doctor Parris. "I +know a good dog when I see one," he muttered resentfully. + +"Let _me_ see that dog!" exclaimed Frank Wiley III in a strangely grave +voice. He pushed the frantically excited Kiki from the bed to the floor. +He drew back the cover from the little dog huddled apprehensively +against young Frank's thin body. "Oh, good Lord! It's incredible! It +just isn't possible!" + +"Isn't it?" snapped his wife, looking with distastefully wrinkled nose +at her husband's chalky face, wide staring eyes. "Well, here it is and +out it goes. Ring for Mason, Frank, at once. I want this dirty little +mongrel out!" + + * * * * * + +Without paying the slightest attention, her husband turned to Miss +Beaver. As he did so, his staring eyes fell upon the ornate plush album +on the foot of the bed. + +"How did that get here?" he demanded. + +"Old Mr. Wiley brought it last night," admitted Miss Beaver, who was +feeling a trifle indignant at the old gentleman's defection. + +"Old Mr. Wiley?" echoed Doctor Parris; stupidly, for him, Miss Beaver +thought. "_Old Mr. Wiley?_" + +Frank Wiley III, his voice shaky, almost shouted at her. + +"Do you mean to stand there and tell me that old Mr. Wiley was here and +brought that album?" + +"I may as well tell you now as ever," snapped Miss Beaver and +deliberately turned her back upon Mrs. Frank, addressing herself +pointedly to Doctor Parris and the boy's father. "The old gentleman has +been in here every night to see Frank since I've been on duty and he +brought his little dog, and in my opinion his little dog should get the +credit of any improvement in the patient's condition." + +Frank Wiley III picked up the bulky volume and began turning the thick +cardboard pages. His hands trembled; his face was queerly pasty. + +"Turn the pages yourself, nurse, will you? See if you can find old Mr. +Wiley's picture." + +Miss Beaver flipped the cardboard pages one after another until a +familiar face looked quizzically at her from a faded old daguerrotype. +She put on finger triumphantly on it. + +"Here he is. This is old Mr. Wiley." + +Mrs. Frank tiptoed nearer, took a single look, then with a shrill scream +fainted into Doctor Parris's convenient arms. + +He muttered under his breath: "Superstitious damsel, this." Of Miss +Beaver he asked drily as he deposited his fair burden distastefully in +the big chair where the old gentleman had been sitting on his nightly +visits: "My dear Miss Beaver, are you _very_ certain old Mr. Wiley has +been dropping in of nights?" + +"Of course I am," declared Miss Beaver indignantly. "Is it so +astonishing that I recognize a face I've been seeing now for three +consecutive nights?" + +"This _is_ unbelievable," Frank Wiley III gasped. + +Said the doctor gravely: "I ask you to be so very certain, nurse, +because the original of that picture has been dead for over fifteen +years." + +As those astonishing words fell on Miss Beaver's ears, she turned from +the doctor in sheer resentment. + +"I don't care for practical jokes," said she with dignity to the boy's +apparently stupefied father, "and I must say I resent being made sport +of. I tell you plainly that old Mr. Wiley, the man in this picture," and +she tapped her finger impressively on the album page, "has spent a +couple of hours with Frankie and me every night since I've been on duty +here, and that's _that_!" + +"Then that's settled," exclaimed the boy's father in a loud and +determined voice. "The dog stays." + +As if miraculously restored, Mrs. Frank sprang to her feet. + +"Is that _so_? Well, my dear husband, I'm afraid you're sadly mistaken. +The dog goes!" She gave her husband glare for glare, the rouge standing +in two round spots on her white face. + +His look was one of active dislike. "We'll see about that, Florry. All +of you, come out into the hall. I want you to see something. Then let +anyone say Frank can't keep that dog!" + +He beckoned imperatively and they followed down the great staircase into +the great hall below, where he stopped under a gilt-framed oil portrait, +life size. His finger pointed significantly. + + * * * * * + +Miss Beaver deciphered the small label at the front of the massive +frame. The painting was a portrait of Frank Wiley I, the founder of the +Wiley family. Her eyes rose higher to really look at the picture for the +first time since she had been in the house. It was the living likeness +of old Mr. Wiley and it almost seemed to her that, as she stared, one of +his eyelids quivered slightly as if in recognition of her belated +admiration for his diplomatic procedure. Beside him on the painted table +one of his fine hands lay negligently or rather, seemed to be lying +higher than the table proper, resting on ... was it just bare canvas? + +"Look for yourself, Florry! Where is the fox-terrier that was painted +sitting on the table under Grandfather's hand?" + +Young Mrs. Wiley stared pallidly at the likeness of the founder of the +Wiley clan. "White paint," she conjectured. Then, peering closer at the +canvas: "Somebody's scraped off the paint where the dog used to be." + +Stiff and grim, his own man now, her husband faced her. + +"Does my boy keep that dog?" + +Behind them sounded a low exclamation. At the head of the staircase +stood young Frank, the puppy tucked securely under one arm. + +"Nobody's going to take away my little dog that Great-grandfather Wiley +brought me," cried the lad stoutly, black eyes flashing, thin face +determined and unyielding. + +"Don't let that dog come near me!" screamed Mrs. Frank and went into a +genuine attack of hysteria. "He isn't _real_!" + +Doctor Parris exchanged a look with Miss Beaver, whose face was pale but +contented. + +"I always knew you were psychic," he whispered, brows drawn into a +puzzled scowl. "That's how the old gentleman, God rest his wilful soul, +could get through." + +"I wondered that he never spoke a single word! Now that it's over, I +think I'm going to faint," decided Miss Beaver shakily. + +"Nonsense," snapped the doctor with scant courtesy. "But _she_ is well +scared, thank God. I hardly think she will interfere much in future with +young Frank. And by the looks of him, the boy's father has had his +backbone stiffened considerably." + +"That painted dog?" whispered Miss Beaver's tremulous lips. + +"Eh? Yes. Ah, yes, the dog," murmured the doctor, too casually. + +"You--you--dared!" uttered Miss Beaver incoherently under her breath. + +"Not altogether," he protested against her ear. + +He pointed upward. Miss Beaver's eyes followed that gesture and met the +admonitory, inscrutable, but very gratified pictured eyes of old Mr. +Wiley. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK OLD MR. WILEY*** + + +******* This file should be named 23379.txt or 23379.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/3/3/7/23379 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. 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