l the curtains drawn, shutters closed, board
before the chimney--not a house with a ventilator! Cold--ugh!"

The window next Mr. Digby did not fit well into its frame.

"There is a sad draught," said the invalid.

Helen instantly occupied herself in stopping up the chinks of the window
with her handkerchief. Mr. Digby glanced ruefully at the other window.
The look, which was very eloquent, aroused yet more the traveler's
spleen.

"Pleasant!" said he. "Cott! I suppose you will ask me to go outside
next! But people who travel in a coach should know the law of a coach. I
don't interfere with your window; you have no business to interfere with
mine."

"Sir, I did not speak," said Mr. Digby meekly.

"But Miss here did."

"Ah, sir!" said Helen plaintively, "if you knew how papa suffers!" And
her hand again moved toward the obnoxious window.

"No, my dear: the gentleman is in his right," said Mr. Digby; and,
bowing with his wonted suavity, he added, "Excuse her, sir. She thinks a
great deal too much of me."

The passenger said nothing, and Helen nestled closer to her father, and
strove to screen him from the air.

The passenger moved uneasily. "Well," said he, with a sort of snort,
"air is air, and right is right; but here goes"--and he hastily drew up
the window.

Helen turned her face full toward the passenger with a grateful
expression, visible even in the dim light.

"You are very kind, sir," said poor Mr. Digby: "I am ashamed to"--his
cough choked the rest of the sentence.

The passenger, who was a plethoric, sanguineous man felt as if he were
stifling. But he took off his wrappers, and resigned the oxygen like a
hero.

Presently he drew nearer to the sufferer, and laid hand on his wrist.

"You are feverish, I fear. I am a medical man. St!--one--two. Cott! you
should not travel; you are not fit for it!"

Mr. Digby shook his head; he was too feeble to reply.

The passenger thrust his hand into his coat-pocket, and drew out what
seemed a cigar-case, but what, in fact, was a leathern repertory,
containing a variety of minute vials, from one of these vials he
extracted two tiny globules. "There," said he; "open your mouth--put
those on the tip of your tongue. They will lower the pulse--check the
fever. Be better presently--but should not travel--want rest--you should
be in bed. Aconite!--Henbane!--hum! Your papa is of fair complexion--a
timid character, I should say--a horror of work, perhaps. Eh, child?