"Why?" he inquired at last.
"Because--he--the nurse's doctor--had frightened me so--"
"Truly?"
"Yes. It is a disease--" again she stopped.
George cried, in a voice of agony, "and then?"
"Then I asked him if the matter was so grave that I could not be
satisfied with our ordinary doctor."
"And what did he answer?"
"He said that if we had the means it would really be better to
consult a specialist."
George looked at his mother again. He was able to do it, because
she was not looking at him. He clenched his hands and got
himself together. "And--where did he send you?"
His mother fumbled in her hand bag and drew out a visiting card.
"Here," she said.
And George looked at the card. It was all he could do to keep
himself from tottering. It was the card of the doctor whom he
had first consulted about his trouble! The specialist in
venereal diseases!
CHAPTER IV
It was all George could do to control his voice. "You--you went
to see him?" he stammered.
"Yes," said his mother. "You know him?"
"No, no," he answered. "Or--that is--I have met him, I think. I
don't know." And then to himself, "My God!"
There was a silence. "He is coming to talk to you," said the
mother, at last.
George was hardly able to speak. "Then he is very much
disturbed?"
"No, but he wants to talk to you."
"To me?"
"Yes. When the doctor saw the nurse, he said, 'Madame, it is
impossible for me to continue to attend this child unless I have
had this very day a conversation with the father.
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