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Updated: May 17, 2025
"You? you?" Janglingly the Little Crippled Girl knelt right up in her chair and shook her tiny fist right in her father's face. "Now, Lendicott Paber!" she screamed. "Don't you start in sassing my darling little Peach!" "Peach?" snorted the Senior Surgeon. With almost supernatural calm he put down his knife and fork and eyed his offspring with an expression of absolutely inflexible purpose.
Last year it was archaeology, the year before, basketry, this year it happened to be eugenics, or something funny like that, next year again it might be book-binding. "So you and your pink and white shepherdess are going off on a little trip together?" she queried banteringly. "The girl's a darling, Lendicott!
When he returned to the piazza the Woman-of-the-World and the Girl-not-at-all-of-the-World were bidding each other a really affectionate good-by, and the woman's face looked suddenly just a little bit old but the girl's cheeks were most inordinately blooming. In unmistakable friendliness his sister-in-law extended her hand to him. "Good-by, Lendicott, old man!" she said. "And good luck to you!"
I haven't had as much sport in a long time as I had that afternoon last June when I came in my best calling-clothes and helped her paint the kitchen woodwork! And I had come prepared to be a bit nasty, Lendicott! In all honesty, Lendicott, I might just as well 'fess up that I had come prepared to be just a little bit nasty!"
Nevertheless one often achieved much comfort by keeping close to "Aunt Agnes's" humorous mouth, for Aunt Agnes knew a thing or two, Aunt Agnes did, and the things that she made a point of knowing were conscientiously amiable. "Why, Lendicott Faber," she rallied him now. "Why, you're as nervous as a school-boy! Why, I believe I believe that you're going courting!"
"Eat, you fool, and drink, you fool, and be merry, you fool, for to-morrow even you, Lendicott R. Faber may have to die!" brawled and re-brawled through his mind like a ribald phonograph tune. At the edge of the bottom step a precipitous lilac branch that must have budded and bloomed in a single hour smote him stingingly across his cheek. "Laggard!" taunted the lilac branch.
"You do me much honor, Agnes," bowed the Senior Surgeon. Quite resolutely he held his gaze from following the White Linen Nurse's quickly averted face. A little oddly for an instant the older woman's glance hung on his. "More honor perhaps than you think, Lendicott Faber!" she said, and kept right on smiling. "Eh?" jerked the Senior Surgeon. Restively he turned to the White Linen Nurse.
He admits that they are coloured by what he learnt at Heidelberg last year. But he goes further than Germans could possibly go. There's a gentleness, a humanity about him, and a spirituality one doesn't expect from the author of 'Questing Cells' or from those Lendicott lectures a few years ago. The thing that struck me about him is that he's so consummately wise wise enough, Mrs.
"What are you 'Lendicotting' me for?" Hilariously with her own knife and fork the Little Crippled Girl began to beat upon the table. "Why, you dear Silly!" she cried. "Why, if I'm the new Marma, I've got to call you 'Lendicott'! And Peach has got to call you 'Fat Father'!" Frenziedly the Senior Surgeon pushed back his chair, and jumped to his feet.
"Don't you ever," he warned her, "ever ever let me hear you call this woman 'Peach' again!" A trifle faint-heartedly the Little Crippled Girl reached up and straightened her absurdly diminutive little white cap, and pursed her little mouth as nearly as possible into an expression of ineffable peace. "Why Lendicott Faber!" she persisted heroically. "Lendicott?" jumped the Senior Surgeon.
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