pecking at her fingers, she
stood musing--calculating the chances of contagion and death if she
persisted. Raising her eyes to the calm blue sky, the perplexed look passed
from her countenance, and, fully decided regarding her course, she went in
to breakfast. Mr. Huntingdon was going to a neighbouring county with Judge
Peterson, to transact some business connected with Hugh's estate, and, as
the buggy came to the door, he asked, carelessly--

"What did Cyrus want?"

"He came to bring me a note from the doctor, concerning some sick people
whom I asked him to see."

"Oh! John, put my overcoat in the buggy. Come, Judge; I am ready."

As he made no inquiry about the sick, she volunteered no explanation, and
he bade her good-bye with manifest cold indifference. She could not avoid
congratulating herself that, since he must take this journey soon, he had
selected the present occasion to be absent, for she was well aware that he
would violently oppose her wishes in the matter of the Row. When Dr. Arnold
met her late in the afternoon of the same day, at little Johnnie's side,
his surprise and chagrin found vent, first in a series of oaths, then,
scowling at her like some thunder-cloud with the electricity expended, he
said--

"Do you consider me a stark idiot, or a shallow quack?"

"Neither, sir, I assure you."

"Then, if I know anything about my business, I wrote you the truth this
morning, and you treat my advice with cool contempt. You vex me beyond all
endurance! Do you want to throw yourself into the jaws of death?"

"You forget, Doctor: 'Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down
his life for his friends.'"

She slipped her hand into his, and looked up, smiling and calm, into his
harsh, swarthy face.

"My child, you made a mistake; your life belongs to me, for I saved it in
your infancy. I cradled you in my arms, lest death should snatch you. I
have a better right to you than anybody else in this world. I don't want to
see you die; I wish to go first."

"I know what I owe you, Doctor; but I am not going to die, and you have
scolded me enough for one time. Do make peace."

"Remember, I warned you, and you would not heed."

From that hour she kept faithful vigil in No. 13, passing continually from
one bedside to another. Susan's attack proved comparatively light, and she
was soon pronounced convalescent; but little Johnnie was desperately ill,
and for several nights Irene sat at his pillow, fearin