r had hidden her deep sorrow in her bosom,
and after a few days, only a smiling face was presented about the house.

When the allotted time at the infirmary had expired, the young doctor,
who had studied the case with such zeal and attended his patient with
the tender care of a son, brought him back to his home.

After having put her father to bed, to rest from the weariness of the
trip, Alice turned around to the waiting physician, a foreboding anxiety
in her heart, and tried to make her question quite natural:

"Well, doctor, how soon can your friend, the specialist, have father
well again?"

After a pause Dr. Emerson replied, "He will not continue on the case,
Miss Gordon."

"O, doctor, what do you mean? He has not given it up? I can not
relinquish hope--I won't."

"And I do not wish you to, Miss Gordon. Dr. Helm did not find your
father's condition to be what he had expected, but we are going to begin
at once a treatment that has been practiced with great success in
Germany, in cases like his."

Nothing more was said at that time between them, but the memory of that
conversation was indelibly printed on Alice's mind, and a long night of
the keenest anguish she had ever experienced, followed.

She thought, and thought, and thought, until the sounds from the
sick-chamber near by, would bring a flood of tender memories and her
pillow would be wet with tears.

It was thus that most of the night was spent. Toward morning she sank
into a deep slumber, but, when she wakened, a terrible leaden weight
seemed to oppress her, and it was several hours before the buoyant
cheerfulness, with which she was by nature endowed, could again assert
itself.

After several days and nights spent thus, Alice came to the wise
conclusion that the situation _must_ be faced, for obvious reasons.

After this decision was reached, she became more calm, and the next day,
without consulting any member of the family, slipped away to the doctor's
downtown office, and waited patiently until he was at leisure to see
her.

Dr. Emerson seemed a little surprised at her appearance, but said, "What
is it, Miss Gordon--what can I do for you?"

"I only came, Dr. Emerson, to say to you that I am now ready to hear
what you have to tell about my father. I want to know just how much we
may hope for--or how little." Her voice faltered, but she continued, "I
could not listen a few days ago when you suggested that Dr. Helm was not
able to relieve hi