matter with you, Clematis," she
thought, as she looked at the little white face.

In the evening Doctor Wyatt came back once more.

"Now, Miss Rose," he said, "you are very tired. You must go away for
a walk, or a visit, or a rest. I will take care of her tonight."

"Don't you think I had better stay, too?"

"No, you must rest. Please have a cup of coffee sent to me about
ten. I shall stay right here. You will be needed tomorrow."

Doctor Wyatt sat down to watch by Clematis.

It was a warm evening, so he gave her a drink, and fanned her, to
cool her hot face.

As it grew late, she fell into a light sleep. As she slept, she
began to talk in low tones.

The doctor bent his head down very near her lips, and listened
carefully to everything she said.

Hour after hour he watched and listened, until he, too, fell asleep,
just as the sun was coming up.

Miss Rose found him there in the morning, sleeping in his chair,
close by the bed.

"Miss Rose," he asked, as he started up, "did this little girl want
anything very much indeed?"

"Yes, she did. She wanted to go to the country, as the other
children did, but it did not seem quite possible."

"That's it! That's just it!" exclaimed Doctor Wyatt. "She spoke of
flowers, of lilacs and daisies. I couldn't tell much what she said,
but I could hear those words."

At that moment, Clematis opened her eyes and stared about her.

Doctor Wyatt took one thin, frail hand in his big brown ones.

"Clematis," he said in a loud, firm tone, "I know a lovely place in
the country. If you will get well, you can go there for two whole
weeks."

Clematis stared at him, but did not seem to hear him.

"I want a drink," she said feebly.

He put the glass to her lips.

"You can pick daisies, and goldenrod, and all sorts of flowers in
the country, if you'll just get well, can't she, Miss Rose?"

"Yes, Clematis, you can." Miss Rose tried to speak cheerfully, but
it was hard. She wanted to cry.

Clematis stared at her also for a minute, and then turned away.

"I'll go get some sleep now. Keep her cool and comfortable, till I
come back again this evening."

The day passed slowly. Mrs. Snow came in two or three times to look
at Clematis, and feel her pulse.

Some of the other teachers came to peep in also. They went away
softly, wiping their eyes.

"She is a queer little girl," said one, "but I do love her."

That is what they all felt.

At evening Doctor Wyatt returned. He