ted her so soon.

"How are you, Dad?" she said, with infinite tenderness.

"He's better," Janey answered. "Aren't you, darling? You _look_ better!"

The doctor's look, with its old benevolent twinkle, went from one girl's
face to the other.

"Know--too--much!" he said, with difficulty, in his eyes the innocent
triumph of the child who will not be deceived. Quite unexpectedly, Julia
felt her lip tremble, tears brimmed her eyes. The invalid saw them, felt
one drop hot on his hand.

"No--no--no!" he said, with pitying gentleness. And, with great effort,
he added, "Seen--Jimmy?"

"Not yet," stammered Julia, shaken to her very soul.

The doctor shut his eyes, his fingers still clinging to Julia's. After
perhaps two full minutes of silence, he whispered:

"Be good to Jimmy, Julia! Be good to him."

Julia could not answer. Barbara found her, in her own room, half an hour
later, crying bitterly. It was then quite dark. The two had a long talk,
ended only when Constance came flying in. Dad seemed better, much
brighter, was asking for Richie, wanted to know if Ned had come.

Constance and Barbara went back to the sickroom, and Julia went
downstairs to find them. She entered the almost dark library, where
Richie and Ned were sitting before the fire. There was some one with
them; Julia knew in an instant who it was. Her heart began to hammer,
her breath failed her. A murmur of friendly low voices ended with her
entrance; the three dim forms rose in the gloom.

"Con?" asked Richie. Julia touched a wall switch, and the great lamp on
the centre table bloomed into sudden light.

"No, it's Julia--they want you, Rich," she said, "and you, too, Ned. Con
says he's much brighter. He asked for you both."

"Hello, dear, I didn't know you were here," Richie said affectionately,
kindly eyes on her face. "But you mustn't cry, Ju!" he added gently.

"I--I saw him," Julia said, mingled emotions making speech almost
impossible. "Isn't there _any_ hope, Richie?"

"None at all," Jim said, leaving the fireplace to quietly join Julia and
Richie at the centre table.

The unforgotten voice! Every fibre in Julia's body thrilled to mortal
shock. She rallied her courage and endurance sternly; she must not
betray herself. Anger helped her, for she knew him well enough to know
that the situation for him was not devoid of a certain artistic
enjoyment.

"Yes, it may come to-night, it may come to-morrow," Richie assented
sorrowfully. "But it