y hold of, for the child does not even complain--she simply suffers.
What am I to do? How am I to tell the children's father that two of
them have disappeared, and the eldest, his favorite, too, is very
ill?"

Iris re-entered the room, with her sun-bonnet hanging on her arm.

"Put it on, my dear, put it on; and brisk up a little," said Mrs.
Dolman. "There is no good in giving way to your feelings."

"I never give way to them, Aunt Jane. I try to be patient," answered
Iris.

Mrs. Dolman tied on her own bonnet with her usual vigor. She then took
one of the hot little hands in hers, and, a few moments later, the
aunt and niece were standing outside Dr. Kent's door in the pretty
little village street.

Dr. Kent was at home. He was a young man, and a clever doctor, and he
gave Iris a good overhauling. He listened to her lungs and heart, put
several questions to her, was kind in his manner, and did not express
the least surprise when he heard that the little girl could neither
eat nor sleep.

"I perfectly understand," he said. "And now, my dear, I hope soon to
have you as right as a trivet; but, in the meantime, I should like to
have a little talk with your aunt. Can you find your way into my
dining room? You have only to turn to the left when you leave this
room."

"Thank you," answered Iris. She went to the door, opened it, and shut
it behind her.

"Now, what do you think about her?" said Aunt Jane. "Out with the
truth, please, Dr. Kent. You know I never can stand any beating about
the bush."

"There is nothing of the ordinary nature the matter with your little
niece," began the doctor.

Mrs. Dolman raised her brows in surprise and indignation.

"How can you say that?" she remarked. "The child looks seriously ill."

"Please allow me to finish my speech. There is nothing the matter with
the child in the form of organic or any other disease; but just at
present there is such a severe strain on her mind that, if it is not
completely relieved, she is very likely to die."

"Doctor! What a terrible thing to say!"

"It is true. The child needs rousing--she is losing all interest in
life. She has been subjected to a terrible shock."

"Of course she has," replied Mrs. Dolman; "but the extraordinary thing
is that a child of ten years of age should feel it so much."

"It is not extraordinary in that sort of child," replied the doctor.
"Can you not see for yourself that she has a very delicate and a very
nervous o