eturning to the subject of
the summons. "Have they--will they--send for Aunt Annie and Leslie, do
you suppose?"

"Leslie is in Florida with the Binneys, most unfortunately. Annie was in
Baltimore yesterday, but I believe she was expected home to-day. Joseph
said he had gotten hold of Hendrick von Behrens, and I told my clerk to
get Acton, and to warn Miss Slater that Alice isn't to be frightened."

"But, Chris--do you suppose she is dying?"

"I don't know--one never does, of course, with paralysis."

"Poor Aunt Alice--it will almost kill her!"

"Yes, it will be terribly hard for her, harder than for any one," he
answered. And Norma loved him for the grave sympathy that filled his
voice, and for the poise that could make such a speech possible, under
the circumstances, without ever a side glance for her.

Then they reached the old house, ran up the steps, and were in the great
dark hallway that already seemed to be filled with the shadow of change.

Whispering, solemn-faced maids went to and fro; Joseph was red-eyed; the
heavy fur coats of two doctors were flung upon chairs. Norma slipped
from her own coat.

"How is she, Joseph?"

"I hardly know, Miss. You're to go up, please, and Regina was to tell
one of the nurses at once that you had come, Miss." He delivered his
message impassively enough, but then the human note must break through.
"I've been with her since she was married, Miss--nigh forty years," the
old man faltered, "and I'm afraid she is very bad--very bad, indeed!"

"Oh, I _hope_ not!" Norma went noiselessly upstairs, Chris close behind
her. Did she hope not? She hardly knew. But she knew that all this was
strangely thrilling--this rush through the tossing windy afternoon to
the old house, this sense of being a part of the emergency, this utter
departure from the tedious routine of life.

A serious-faced nurse took charge of them, and she and Chris followed
her noiselessly into the familiar bedroom that yet looked so altered in
its new lifeless order and emptiness. The clutter of personal
possessions was already gone, chairs had been straightened and pushed
back, and on the bed that had lately been frilled and embroidered in
white and pink, and piled with foolish little transparent baby pillows,
a fresh, flawless linen sheet was spread. Silence reigned in the wide
chamber; but two doctors were standing by the window, and looked at the
newcomers with interest, and a second nurse passed them on her