don't make me take that. I don't refuse it for pride's
sake!"

"I don't know about that," he replied; "why do you do it?"

"For his sake, Doctor. I know just as well what he'd say--we've no right
to take it anyhow. We don't know when we could pay it back." Her head
sank. She wiped a tear from her hand.

"Why, I don't care if you never pay it back!" The Doctor reddened
angrily.

Mary raised her veil.

"Doctor,"--a smile played on her lips,--"I want to say one thing." She
was a little care-worn and grief-worn; and yet, Narcisse, you should
have seen her; you would not have slipped out.

"Say on, madam," responded the Doctor.

"If we have to ask anybody, Doctor, it will be you. John had another
situation, but lost it by his chills. He'll get another. I'm sure he
will." A long, broken sigh caught her unawares. Dr. Sevier thrust his
pocket-book back into its place, compressing his lips and giving his
head an unpersuaded jerk. And yet, was she not right, according to all
his preaching? He asked himself that. "Why didn't your husband come to
see me, as I requested him to do, Mrs. Richling?"

She explained John's being turned away from the door during the Doctor's
illness. "But anyhow, Doctor, John has always been a little afraid of
you."

The Doctor's face did not respond to her smile.

"Why, you are not," he said.

"No." Her eyes sparkled, but their softer light quickly returned. She
smiled and said:--

"I will ask a favor of you now, Doctor."

They had risen, and she stood leaning sidewise against his low desk and
looking up into his face.

"Can you get me some sewing? John says I may take some."

The Doctor was about to order two dozen shirts instanter, but common
sense checked him, and he only said:--

"I will. I will find you some. And I shall see your husband within an
hour. Good-by." She reached the door. "God bless you!" he added.

"What, sir?" she asked, looking back.

But the Doctor was reading.

CHAPTER XX.

ALICE.

A little medicine skilfully prescribed, the proper nourishment, two or
three days' confinement in bed, and the Doctor said, as he sat on the
edge of Richling's couch:--

"No, you'd better stay where you are to-day; but to-morrow, if the
weather is good, you may sit up."

Then Richling, with the unreasonableness of a convalescent, wanted to
know why he couldn't just as well go home. But the Doctor said again,
no.

"Don't be impatient; you'll have to go anyhow befo