It was more than a professional contempt for the "general practitioner" that made him silently curse what he called the "death-doctor," as he looked at Jenny, "Jack of all diseases, and master of none." "Two months ago, a month," he thought, as he listened and listened for a sound of hope that might come to his ear through Jenny's wasted side,--"even a month, and I could have saved her." And yet as he talked to her he was not so sure, after all.

He missed something in her voice.
It was the will to live.
"Have you had a shock at any time ?" he said.
Jenny was taken by surprise for a moment,--the other doctor had asked her that, too,--and she did not deny it so convincingly as she tried to.
"O, that's all right," said the doctor aloud to Jenny and her mother, who stood by, though inwardly he said, "I see.

That's the reason;" and again he said, "I'm afraid you mustn't get up just yet.

That chest of yours has to be taken care of, but you needn't be anxious.

In a month or six weeks you'll be all right again." "Only a month or six weeks," said Jenny, with a sinking voice.