m a _man_, what
his fate will be if he goes on with his poisons."

Sophy said nothing.

"Poor soul! She's given up!" thought Anne. "Well, _I_ must tussle to the
bitter end--that's what nurses are here for."

As soon as Chesney was rational, she "had it out" with him.

"Well, for God's sake, bring on your damned quack and let him have his
quack-quackery out!" was his surly response. "I suppose I'm of too tough
a fibre to be slain by an ass's jawbone. But I warn you--no sanatorium
hocus-pocus!"

"Oh, you needn't worry!" Anne had said crossly. "Your mother's on your
side. She'll help you destroy yourself. Mothers have a sort of gift that
way, you know. But if you were _my_ man--I'd clap you in a safe place,
no matter _what_ you said or did!"

Chesney gave her one of his ugliest looks.

"Leave me in peace!" he growled. "I've said I'd see your precious
Carfew. Now you're working me up just because of your own nasty little
temper. A fine nurse, _you_ are!"

"Well, I can't beat you for a patient," retorted Anne, with her puggy
sniff.

That same night Bobby had a bad attack of croup. Sophy and Bellamy and
Anne--who had left Chesney unceremoniously to the strange nurse's
care--fought until daybreak for his life.

After it was all over, and Bobby safe, Bellamy told Sophy that the time
to keep his promise had come. She gazed at him, startled--not
recollecting.

"My promise to tell you frankly when I thought the boy needed a change
of climate," he reminded her. "He needs it now, Mrs. Chesney. You both
need it."

Sophy whitened.

"You don't mean...?"

"No, no! Nothing in the least serious. But, though we've had some fine
days lately, the boy needs a drier climate--hotter sunshine. The Italian
Lakes are not at all bad in summer, Mrs. Chesney, though people stare at
the idea of going to Italy in the summer. I spent a delightful July and
August once at Cadenabbia. Why not try Como? Or, if you want to be
perfectly quiet, the other lake--Maggiore. There's a capital hotel at
Baveno. I've been there, too. Nice gardens for the boy to play in.
Pleasant jaunts to the Barromean Islands--if you care for that sort of
thing."

Sophy seemed to be only half listening to him. She had a far-away look
in her eyes. He thought that she was brooding over the sad plight in
which she would have to leave her husband if she took her boy to Italy.
But Sophy was only thinking how strange it was that an English physician
was ordering to go