cause then they can't git better, you know, an'
they're outen their misery sooner."

The insinuating leer with which the wretch ended this speech caused
Miss Arnold's blood to run cold.

"You brute! you fiend! ghoul! or whatever kind of demon you call
yourself, begone! in the name of Heaven, begone!" exclaimed the heroic
girl, her eyes flashing fire, and her whole frame trembling with
disgust and horror.

Her demeanor cowed the fellow, and he actually cringed as he backed
out at the door. But on the sidewalk he seemed to recover his
coolness, or at least he assumed to, for stepping in again, he
exclaimed:

"Mind, I'll be round in the mornin', and I don't want no gum games!
I've got too much to do on my hands now."

Agnes paid no heed to him at all, but hastening back to her patients,
she recommenced her nursing care of them.

There was no fire, and in fact none was needed, except for cooking and
preparing the one or two simple remedies which Agnes used in
connection with the treatment of the sick victims, and which she felt
assured would not interfere with the medicine they were taking.

In truth, during the whole epidemic, it seemed as though mere medicine
was of no avail whatever, and that really the methods and means used
by the natives, independent of the doctors, did all the good that was
done.

First, she got out of the store some mackerel and bound them, just as
they came out of the barrel, brine and all, to the soles of the feet
of both the mother and children.

This simple remedy acted like a charm, for in about three hours the
fever began to break. Agnes put on fresh mackerel as before, removing
the first ones, which, startling as it may seem, were perfectly
putrid, though reeking with the strong salt brine when she applied
them.

By nine o'clock that night the noble young woman had the inexpressible
delight of seeing her poor patients so far changed for the better as
to be completely out of danger.

On the next morning, true to his promise, the dead-wagon man came
around. He was one of those in-bred wicked spirits which take delight
in hating everything and everybody good and beautiful; just as the
Greek peasant hated Aristides, and voted for his banishment, because
he was surnamed the "good." This fellow already hated Agnes, and his
ugly face was contorted with a hideous grin, as he thrust himself in
at the store door and exclaimed:

"Hallo! where's them dead 'uns? fetch 'em out!"

Agnes h