The Measure of Margaret Coppered

The manager nodded, eyeing her curiously.

"Mr. Wyatt, you've heard of their trouble, of course? The accident this morning to their little boy?"

"Ah, yes--yes," said Wyatt. "Of course. Hurt by a fall, poor little fellow. Very serious. Yes, poor things! Did you want to see--"

"You know that one of your big surgeons here--I've forgotten the name!--is to operate on little Phil to-morrow?" asked Mrs. Coppered.

"So Penrose said," assented the manager slowly, watching her as if a little surprised at her insistence.

"Mr. Wyatt," said Mrs. Coppered,--and Duncan noticed that she had turned a little pale,--"Mrs. Penrose wired me news of all this only a few hours ago. She is half frantic at the idea that she must go on to-morrow afternoon and evening; yet the understudy is ill, and she felt it was too short notice to ask you to make a change now. But it occurred to me to come to see you about it. I want to ask you a favor. I want you to let me pl