Part 16

“Not to do it would be both stupid and cruel. Shall we call in the women and have it out with them?”

For reply, Mr. Clyde pressed a button and sent the servant who responded, for Mrs. Clyde and her mother. Grandma Sharpless arrived first, took stock of the men’s grave faces, and sat down silently, folding her strong, competent hands in her lap. But no sooner had Mrs. Clyde caught sight of her husband’s face than her hand went to her throat.

“What is it?” she said. “The children—”

“Nothing to be alarmed about, Mrs. Clyde,” said Dr. Strong quickly. He pushed a chair toward her. “Sit down. It’s a question of—of what I might call carpenter-work”—the mother laughed a nervous relief—“on Betty.”

“Betty?” Her fears fluttered in her voice. “What about Betty?”

“She needs repairing; that’s all.”

“I don’t know what you mean! Is she hurt?”

“Not at all. She is breathing wrong. She breathes through her mouth.”

“Oh!” There was reassurance and a measure even of contempt in Mrs. Clyde’s voice. “Lots of children do that. Perhaps she’s got a little cold.”

“It isn’t that. This is no new thing with her. She is a mouth-breather.”

“I’ll see that it’s corrected,” promised the mother.

“Only one thing can correct it,” said Dr. Strong gravely. “There’s a difficulty that must be removed.”

“You mean an operation? On that baby? Do you know that she isn’t five yet? And you want to cut her with a knife—”

“Steady, Myra,” came Mr. Clyde’s full, even speech. “Dr. Strong doesn’t want to do anything except what he considers necessary.”

“Necessary! Supposing she does breathe through her mouth! What excuse is that for torturing her—my baby!”

“I’ll answer that, Mrs. Clyde,” said the doctor, with patient politeness. Walking over to the window he threw it up and called, “Oh, Tootles! Twinkles! Honorable Miss Cherub, come up here. I’ve got something to show you.” And presently in came the child, dragging a huge and dilapidated doll.

She was a picture of rosy health, but, for the first time, the mother noted the drooping of the lower jaw, and the slight lift of the upper lip, revealing the edges of two pearly teeth. Dr. Strong took from a drawer a little wooden box, adjusted a lever and, placing the ear pieces in Betty’s ears, bade her listen. But the child shook her head. Again he adjusted the indicator. This time, too, she said that she heard nothing. Not until the fourth change did she announce delightedly that she heard a pretty bell, but that it sounded very far away.

“Now we’ll try it on mother,” said the experimenter, and added in a low tone as he handed it to Mrs. Clyde, “I’ve set it two points less loud than Betty’s mark. Can you hear it?”

Mrs. Clyde nodded. A look of dread came into her eyes.

“Now, Tootles, open your mouth,” directed the doctor, producing a little oblong metal contrivance.

“I haven’t got any sore froat,” objected the young lady.

“No, but I want to look at the thoughts inside your head,” he explained mysteriously.

With entire confidence the child opened her mouth as wide as possible, and Dr. Strong, setting the instrument far back against her tongue, applied his eye to the other end.

“All right, Toots,” he said, after a moment. “Get your breath, and then let mother look.”

He showed Mrs. Clyde how to press the tiny button setting aglow an electric lamp and lighting up the nasal passages above the throat, which were reflected on a mirror within the contrivance and thus made clear to the eye. Following his instructions, she set her eye to the miniature telescope as the physician pressed it against the little tongue.

“Well, Betty,” said Dr. Strong, as the implement was again withdrawn, “you’ve got very nice thoughts inside that wise little head of yours. Now you can continue bringing up your doll in the way she should go.”

As the door closed behind her the mother turned to Dr. Strong.

“Is she going to be deaf?” she asked breathlessly.