One part of her mind was singing with happiness because yesterday afternoon she had taken her father to Mr. Sheldon Curtis’s Nursing Home in North London.
He had been given a small room, and the nurse who was to look after him was an elderly woman with a kind face. The moment Larentia met Mr. Sheldon Curtis she knew that she could trust him.
When she said goodbye to her father Mr. Curtis had asked her to speak with him in his private office.
“You are not to worry, Miss Braintree,” he said. “Dr. Medwin has told me all about your father and I have no reason to doubt that in three or four weeks I will send him back to you with every prospect of his living for another twenty to thirty years and doing a great deal more of his splendid work.”
“You have heard of Papa?” Larentia asked.
“I can
