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“Monsieur is the new doctor,” said
Josephine.
The mother stood up and curtsied and the
father raised his hand towards his head as
if to take off his béret.
“I am so sorry for you,” began the
Doctor . . .
“Thank you, Monsieur le Docteur,” said
the old mother, “he has been asleep ever
since we came, and I know well that is the
very best thing he can do. He was always
such a delicate child; I nursed him through
all sorts of illnesses and I always knew that
once he had gone to sleep he would wake up
much the better for it. And don’t you
remember, père, when he fell down from
the pear-tree and the doctor thought he had
broken his skull, how he went straight off to
sleep, and when he woke up he was out of
danger? We do not mind sitting here the
whole day; I have so often been sitting
watching him sleep for hours and hours when he
was a boy, and I say to his father to doze a
little and that I will tell him as soon as the
boy wakes up.”
The old man blinked with his dim eyes
approvingly, and leaned his chin against
the stick.
“I wish he would just wake up for a
moment to see that we are here, and then go
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