e parlor, and while the poor old lady lamented, she
read the letter which Phebe had sent to her that she might "break the
news carefully to Rose."

DEAR MISS PLENTY, Please read this to yourself first, and tell my little
mistress as you think best. The dear doctor is very ill, but I am with
him, and shall not leave him day or night till he is safe. So trust me,
and do not be anxious, for everything shall be done that care and skill
and entire devotion can do. He would not let us tell you before, fearing
you would try to come at the risk of your health. Indeed it would be
useless, for only one nurse is needed, and I came first, so do not let
Rose or anybody else rob me of my right to the danger and the duty. Mac
has written to his father, for Dr. Alec is now too ill to know what we
do, and we both felt that you ought to be told without further delay. He
has a bad malignant fever, caught no one can tell how, unless among some
poor emigrants whom he met wandering about quite forlorn in a strange
city. He understood Portuguese and sent them to a proper place when they
had told their story. But I fear he has suffered for his kindness, for
this fever came on rapidly, and before he knew what it was I was there,
and it was too late to send me away.

Now I can show you how grateful I am, and if need be give my life so
gladly for this friend who has been a father to me. Tell Rose his last
conscious word and thought were for her. "Don't let her come; keep my
darling safe." Oh, do obey him! Stay safely at home and, God helping me,
I'll bring Uncle Alec back in time. Mac does all I will let him. We have
the best physicians, and everything is going as well as can be hoped
till the fever turns.

Dear Miss Plenty, pray for him and for me, that I may do this one happy
thing for those who have done so much for Your ever dutiful and loving

PHEBE

As Rose looked up from the letter, half stunned by the sudden news
and the great danger, she found that the old lady had already stopped
useless bewailing and was praying heartily, like one who knew well where
help was to be found. Rose went and knelt down at her knee, laying her
face on the clasped hands in her lap, and for a few minutes neither
wept nor spoke. Then a stifled sob broke from the girl, and Aunt Plenty
gathered the young head in her arms, saying, with the slow tears of age
trickling down her own withered cheeks: "Bear up, my lamb, bear up. The
good Lord won't take him from us