o, I don't know why. I was
unsteady on my feet and held on to the back of a chair.

"I never saw anything like this before," I said. "I didn't quite realize
that it ever happened. The poor little thing was dying, and you did it
all so quickly! That thing went in like a flash, and then she coughed so
and I thought she was lost. And now she sleeps, and I am sure you have
saved her, and she must get well. How dreadful it was, at first, and how
wonderfully beautiful it is to be able to do such things! I am so glad!"

Wasn't it silly of me to get so excited, Aunt Jennie. But I suppose one
can't understand such happenings until one has witnessed them. I know
that I had taken the doctor's arm, without realizing what I was doing,
and found myself patting it, stupidly, like a silly, hysterical thing.

His face was very serious, just then, and he looked at me as if he had
been studying another patient. Then came that little smile of his, very
kindly, which made me feel better.

"I think you had better go now, Miss Jelliffe," he advised. "I beg you
not to expose yourself further. It is a duty you owe your good old father
and any one who cares for you."

Then I was myself again. The excitement of those tense moments had passed
away and I knew I had been a little foolish and that he spoke ever so
gently.

"I will go since you wish me to," I answered. "But I am ever so glad that
I was able to help you. You will come to supper, won't you?"

"I am afraid you will have to excuse me," he said. "I can hardly do so
now, for I must remain here and watch this child for some time. You will
please change all your clothing and have it hung out on the line, and
you will gargle your throat with something I will send you. I'll call
to-morrow and see your father, and give you the latest news of this
little patient."

"I didn't know that you ever got so angry," I said, now prompted by some
spirit of mischief. "You were in a dreadful temper when I came in."

"Of course I was," he readily admitted. "But do you realize that this is
the continuation of an old story. This woman was in St. John's last week,
with the child, and I suppose they may have brought the disease from
there. Then the child became ill, the night before last, and she waits
until this morning to bring it over to me. When she reaches here she
finds me away, but of course every woman in the place strolls in, with
children in arms, to look on and give advice. We may be in for a