isy! And I didn't go in!" Her voice was touched
with the sweetest regret and compassion.

Doctor Joe went upstairs presently, to grandmother.

"Her breathing is better," he said. "I have tried a new remedy. When she
has had some sleep she will be all right. This isn't quite a normal
state yet. Call me if there is any special change."

Then he went down to the office again. People came more in the morning
or the evening, and he had attended to his urgent calls. He was glad not
to go out just then. But he thought of the young people on their way to
the palace of delight. Had he ever been young and joyous, as the youth
of to-day? He had studied and worked, taught some, used up all his time,
and had none for the passing vagaries. What made him feel old, and as if
some of the rarest delights would pass him by?

There was a light tap at the office-door, though it stood ajar. He rose
and opened it wider.

"Why, Daisy Jasper!" he cried in amazement. "Or is it your wraith? I
thought you had gone to the fair with Hanny."

She had been very pale; now she flushed a little. There was a
tremulousness about her, and shadows under her eyes.

"I had a headache all the morning; most of the night as well. It has
gone off somewhat, but I didn't feel well enough for that."

"No, of course not." He led her to the pretty library, that was always
having a picture or a set of books added. You couldn't put in any more
easy-chairs. He placed her in one. As he touched her hand, he felt the
feverish tremble.

"My dear child, what is it?"

Her eyes drooped, and tears beaded the lashes.

"You shouldn't have come out. Why did you not send for me?"

"I--I wanted to come. I knew Hanny would be gone. I wanted to see you."
She was strangely embarrassed.

He was standing by the side of the chair and took her hand again. How
limp and lifeless it seemed!

"I wanted to see you--to ask you, to tell you--oh, how shall I say
it!--if you could help me a little. You are so wise, and can think of so
many ways--and I am so afraid he loves me--it would not be right--"

Yes, that was it. This bright, charming, well-bred, fortunate young
fellow loved her. He could keep her like a little queen. And she had
some conscientious scruple about her health, and her trifling lameness,
and all. A word from him would keep her where she was. He had carried
her in his arms, his little ewe lamb. No man could ever give her the
exquisite care that he would be able to