with some condensed milk, which his wife's
stores had furnished; but that would not answer. Poor Jamie pushed this
by. There was some smoke or something,--who should say what?--it would
not do. The doctor could see in an instant how his patient had fallen
back in the night. That weird, anxious, entreating look, as his head lay
back on the little pillow, had all come back again. Robert and Robert's
friends, Gaisford and Warren, had gone down to the Old Colony, to the
Worcester, and to the Hartford stations. Perhaps their trains were doing
better. The door-bell rang yet again. "Mrs. Appleton's love to Mrs.
Walter, and perhaps her child will try some fresh beef-tea." As if poor
Jamie did not hate beef-tea; still Morton resolutely forced three
spoonfuls down. Half an hour more and Mrs. Dudley's compliments. "Mrs.
Dudley heard that Mrs. Walter was out of milk, and took the liberty to
send round some very particularly nice Scotch groats, which her brother
had just brought from Edinburgh." "Do your best with it, Fanny," said
poor Mary, but she knew that if Jamie took those Scotch groats it was
only because they were a Christmas present. Half an hour more! Three
more spoonfuls of beef-tea after a fight. Door-bell again. Carriage at
the door. "Would Mrs. Walter come down and see Mrs. Fitch? It was really
very particular." Mary was half dazed, and went down, she did not know
why.

"Dear Mrs. Walter, you do not remember me," said this eager girl,
crossing the room and taking her by both hands.

"Why, no--yes--do I?" said Mary, crying and laughing together.

"Yes, you will remember, it was at church, at the baptism. My Jennie and
your Jamie were christened the same day. And now I hear,--we all know
how low he is,--and perhaps he will share my Jennie's breakfast. Dear
Mrs. Walter, do let me try."

Then Mary saw that the little woman's cloak and hat were already thrown
off,--which had not seemed strange to her before,--and the two passed
quietly up stairs together; and Julia Fitch bent gently over him, and
cooed to him, and smiled to him, but could not make the poor child
smile. And they lifted him so gently on the pillow,--but only to hear
him scream. And she brought his head gently to her heart, and drew back
the little curtain that was left, and offered to him her life; but he
was frightened, and did not know her, and had forgotten what it was she
gave him, and screamed again; and so they had to lay him back gently
upon the pi