.

"Somebody in the family has to think of something besides making money,"
she retorted. "Please lend me your pencil; I want to do some wiring."

All other gifts apart, Miss Grierson could boast of a degree of
executive ability little inferior to her father's; did boast of it when
the occasion offered; and by the time the whistle was sounding for
Wahaska, all the arrangements had been made for the provisional rescue
of the sick man in Lower Six.

At the station a single inquiry served to give the Good Samaritan
intention the right of way. There were no friends to meet Lower Six; but
the Grierson carriage was waiting, with the coachman and a Mereside
gardener for bearers. From that to putting the sick man to bed in one of
the guest-chambers of the lake-fronting mansion at the opposite end of
the town was a mere bit of routine for one so capable as Miss Grierson;
and twenty minutes after the successful transfer, she had Dr. Farnham at
the nameless one's bedside, and was telephoning the college infirmary
for a nurse.

Naturally, there were explanations to be made when the doctor came down.
To her first anxious question the answer came gravely: "You have a very
sick man on your hands, Miss Margery." Then the inevitable: "Who is he?"

She spread her hands in a pretty affectation of embarrassment.

"What will you think of me, Doctor Farnham, when I tell you that I
haven't the littlest atom of an idea?"

Charlotte's father was a small man, with kindly eyes and the firm,
straight-lined mouth of his Puritan forebears. "Tell me about it," he
said concisely.

"There is almost nothing to tell. He was sick and out of his head, and
his ticket read to Wahaska. No one on the train seemed to know anything
about him; and he couldn't tell us anything himself. So when we found
there was no one to meet him at the station, we put him into the
carriage and brought him home. There didn't seem to be anything else to
do."

A shrewd smile flickered for an instant in the kindly eyes of Wahaska's
best-beloved physician.

"Almost any one else would have found plenty of other things to do--or
not to do," was his comment. "Are you prepared to go on, Miss Margery?"

"Taking care of him until he is able to take care of
himself?--certainly," was the quick reply.

"Then I'll tell you that it is likely to be a long siege, and probably a
pretty serious one. I can't tell positively without the microscope, but
I'm calling it malaria, with comp