gh the house. The mother has been
sitting up with this baby day and night for the last week, and they were
so silly they never sent for a doctor, imagining that the awful state of
the throat was due to hoarseness, and that the rash was what they were
pleased to call 'spring heat.' The folly of some people is enough to
drive any reasonable man to despair. They send for the doctor, forsooth,
when the child is almost in the grip of death! I have managed to relieve
her a bit during the night, but I must have the services of a good nurse
at once. Go over and awake Miss Fraser, Effie, and bring her to see me.
If she has the pluck she gave me to understand she had, she will come in
as a stop-gap until I get somebody else. And now, look here: the case is
so infectious, and your mother is so weak just now, that I am going to
devote myself altogether to it for the next few days. I am going to take
up my abode at The Grange, and I shall wire to my old friend Edwards to
look after the rest of my patients. There are only half a dozen to be
seen to, and he will keep them quiet until I am free again. Now go over
and bring Miss Fraser for me to see. I have driven down on the Squire's
dog-cart, and will take her back with me if she will come. Run along,
Effie, and wake her up."

CHAPTER II.

Dorothy Fraser was sound asleep when Effie rushed into her little room.

"Get up!" said Effie, shaking her friend by the shoulder.

As a nurse Miss Fraser was accustomed to unexpected disturbances. She
opened her eyes now and gazed at Effie for a bewildered moment, then she
sat up in bed and pushed back her heavy hair.

"Why, Effie," she exclaimed, "what do you want? I fancied I was back at
St. Joseph's and that one of the nurses had got into trouble and had
come to me, but I find I am at home for the holidays. Surely it is not
time to get up yet?"

"It is only five o'clock," said Effie. "It is not the usual time to get
up; but, Dorothy, father wants you. There is a bad case of illness at
The Grange--very bad indeed, and father is nearly distracted, and he
wants to know if you will help him just for a bit."

"Why, of course," cried Dorothy. "I shall be delighted."

"I knew you would; I knew you were just that splendid sort of a girl."

Miss Fraser knit her brows in some perplexity "Don't, Effie," she said.
"I wish you would not go into such ecstasies over me; I am only just a
nurse. A nurse is, and ought to be, at the beck and call