her first visit to the house, with the same rich old brocaded paper
and fringed rep draperies, with the same pictures, and a few new ones,
lined on the mantel.

"Where are Mrs. von Behrens and Leslie?" Doctor Murray, who had known
all the family intimately for years, asked Chris.

"Is it so serious, Doctor?" Christopher asked in turn, when he had
answered. The doctor, glancing toward the closed door, nodded gravely.

"A matter of a day or two," he said, looking at the other old doctor for
confirmation. "She was apparently perfectly normal last night, went to
bed at her usual hour," he said, "this morning she complained of her
head, when the maid went in at ten, said that she must have hurt
it--struck it against something. The maid, a sensible young woman, was
uneasy, and telephoned for me. Unfortunately, I was in Westchester this
morning, but I got here at about one o'clock and found her as she is
now. She has had a stroke--probably several slight shocks."

"Why, but she was perfectly well day before yesterday!" Norma said, in
amazement. "And only ten days ago she came back from Florida, and said
that she never felt better!"

"That is frequently the history of the disease," the second doctor said,
sagely. And, glancing at his watch, he added, "I don't think you will
need me again, Doctor Murray?"

"What are the chances of her--knowing anybody?" Chris asked.

"She may very probably have another lucid interval," Doctor Murray said.
"If Mrs. Sheridan could arrange to stay, it would be advisable. She
asked for her daughters, but she seemed even more anxious that we should
send for--_you_." He glanced at Norma, with a little old-fashioned bow.

Mrs. Sheridan could stay, of course. She would telephone home, and
advise Aunt Kate, at once. Indeed, so keen was Norma's sense almost of
enjoyment in this thrilling hour that she would have been extremely
sorry to leave the house. It was sad, it was dreadful, of course, to
think that poor old Aunt Marianna was so ill, but at the same time it
was most dramatic. She and Chris settled themselves before the fire in
the upstairs sitting-room with Doctor Murray, who entertained them with
mild reminiscences of the Civil War. The storm was upon the city now,
rain slashed at the windows and the wind howled bitterly.

There was whispering in the old house, quiet footsteps, muffled voices
at the door and telephone. At about six o'clock Chris went home, to tell
Alice, with what tenderne