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Pop hesitated. He looked questioningly at Jane. She was in a quandary. Pop looked very badly; certainly he needed a rest. Oh, if only Speedy were there to advise her. For harum-scarum as he was as a rule, he usually knew the right thing to do in a pinch. Certainly if she allowed Pop to stay on the job and anything did happen to him, she would never forgive herself for not having insisted upon his going away for a rest. Surely this Doctor Mason knew his business. And Mr. Carter, though she did not fancy the sharp, almost possessive way he looked at her sometimes, had been very kind.

"You'd better take Dr. Mason's advice and go to Spring Lake for a few days, granddad," Jane said. "Mr. Carter and I will see that the car runs. You won't have a thing to worry about. And you can get treatments for your back."

In his weakened condition Pop Dillon's fighting spirit was about gone. If Jane trusted this fellow Carter, certainly he could. He nodded his acquiescence.

"Guess it wouldn't do me any harm," he agreed.

"Fine," said Carter at once. "Miss Dillon will pack your bag and she and I will ride with you to Grand Central. You just have time enough to make the noon train."

So Jane, with her heart heavy and doubt still lingering in her mind, laid Pop's spare clothes neatly in his battered old suitcase. She persuaded him to change his working garb for his "Sunday suit," helping him with his dressing, for the old man was quite feeble. Carter summoned a taxi. Dr. Mason