"
"And you are alone in the world?" asked the doctor, who had followed his
story with interest.
Philip Waldron's face lit up with a rarely winning smile.
"No," he said, "I have a little girl." Then the smile faded, as he
added, "She is a cripple."
"And have you never appealed to your father?"
[Sidenote: Unopened Letters]
"While my wife lived--many times. For her sake I threw pride aside, but
my letters were always returned unopened."
The doctor sat silent for some time. Then steadfastly regarding the
young man, he said--
"My name is Norman. I have known and attended your father now for a good
many years. I was at your brother's death-bed. I never heard him mention
a second son."
Philip sighed. "No, I suppose not. I am as dead to him now."
"You are indifferent?"
"Pardon me; not indifferent, only hopeless. Had there been any chance
for me, it came when my brother died."
"For the sake of your child will you not appeal once more?"
Philip's face softened. "For my child I would do much. Thank God,"
glancing at his left hand, "my right is uninjured. My city work is safe.
Singing is not my profession, you know," he added, with a dreary smile.
"I only sing to buy luxuries for my lame little one."
Rising, he held out his hand.
"You have been a true Samaritan, Dr. Norman. I sincerely thank you."
The doctor took the outstretched hand.
"May I help you further?" he asked.
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