h a sweet smile. "I
shall be very happy to go, or to stay. I shall be happy everywhere, with
my darling boy, and the thought of my husband. Why, I count the days
till he shall come back to me. No, to us; to us, my pet. How dare a
naughty mammy say to 'me,' as if 'me' was half the 'portance of oo, a
precious pets!"

Dr. Philip was surprised into a sigh.

"What is the matter, dear?" said Rosa, very quickly.

"The matter?"

"Yes, dear, the matter. You sighed; you, the laughing philosopher."

"Did I?" said he, to gain time. "Perhaps I remembered the uncertainty of
human life, and of all mortal hopes. The old will have their thoughts,
my dear. They have seen so much trouble."

"But, uncle dear, he is a very healthy child."

"Very."

"And you told me yourself carelessness was the cause so many children
die."

"That is true."

She gave him a curious and rather searching look; then, leaning over
her boy, said, "Mammy's not afraid. Beautiful Pet was not born to die
directly. He will never leave his mam-ma. No, uncle, he never can. For
my life is bound in his and his dear father's. It is a triple cord: one
go, go all."

She said this with a quiet resolution that chilled Uncle Philip.

At this moment the nurse, who had been bending so pertinaciously over
some work that her eyes were invisible, looked quickly up, cast a
furtive glance at Mrs. Staines, and finding she was employed for the
moment, made an agitated signal to Dr. Philip. All she did was to
clench her two hands and lift them half way to her face, and then cast a
frightened look towards the door; but Philip's senses were so sharpened
by constant alarm and watching, that he saw at once something serious
was the matter. But as he had asked himself what he should do in case
of some sudden alarm, he merely gave a nod of intelligence to the nurse,
scarcely perceptible, then rose quietly from his seat, and went to the
window. "Snow coming, I think," said he. "For all that we shall have the
March summer in ten days. You mark my words." He then went leisurely
out of the room; at the door he turned, and, with all the cunning he was
master of, said, "Oh, by the by, come to my room, nurse, when you are at
leisure."

"Yes, doctor," said the nurse, but never moved. She was too bent on
hiding the agitation she really felt.

"Had you not better go to him, nurse?"

"Perhaps I had, madam."

She rose with feigned indifference, and left the room. She walked
leisurely