s the man who, with
a gesture of his hand, had swept her from his path. He had arisen on her
entrance, and leaned hard on the back of the chair. To my surprise he
spoke quite composedly, and I realized I had made an awful mistake.

"This is all wrong, Miss Jelliffe," he said. "I tried to prevent Yves
from calling you. The child has diphtheria and you must leave at once."

The man's voice was frightfully hoarse, and he unconsciously put his hand
up to his throat. She looked at him without answering. Then she went up
to the little table and picked up a small vial she had noticed.

"Antitoxine, seven thousand units," she read. Then she took up a small
glass syringe armed with a bright steel needle, and stared at it.

"You have given it to the child?" she asked.

"Yes, just a few minutes ago," he answered. "We only left Edward's Bay at
sunrise. The man is getting well. I was told of this case and went up to
Sammy's for the antitoxine."

"But it was the last you had!" she cried, "and Atkins has only been able
to start this morning for more, and the wind is very bad for him. It may
be days before he returns."

The man shrugged his shoulders, very slightly, and Helen went up to him,
scrutinizing his face, silently. Then she put her fingers on the wrist
that was supporting his hand on the back of the chair.

"I am not well," he said, "and I wish you would leave. I think I will
have to let Mrs. Barnett into this mess. She's away at Goslett's house,
where they expect a baby."

"How long have you known that you had diphtheria too?" asked Helen, and I
could detect in her voice an intensity of reproof that was wonderful, for
she was scolding the man, just as excited mothers sometimes scold a
little one that has fallen down and hurt itself.

"I was beginning to feel it last night," he answered, "but please go away
now, for it is dangerous."

Then he addressed me.

"Mr. Jelliffe, do take her away. I hear that she was here last night and
remained for hours. You will take her away to St. John's at once, and
have her given a preventive injection. Now please hurry off."

I could see that the poor chap's voice rasped his throat painfully. His
two hands dropped to his side, with the palms turned forward, in a feeble
gesture of entreaty.

"You knew this morning that you had it," said Helen again. "And you only
had that vial and used it all for the boy."

He nodded, with another slight shrug of his shoulders.

"I see that y