e father in the quickest way possible, urge him
to return to London without fail, and give little Iris something to do
which will occupy and satisfy her mind. In the meantime I will order
her a tonic, but medicines are not what she needs. She requires mind
rest, and nothing else will make her well."

Mrs. Dolman left Dr. Kent's house, feeling very uncomfortable. She
took Iris home, was wonderfully gentle to her during the walk, and
sent her up to the schoolroom with a message to Miss Ramsay to say
that she was not to do any more lessons that morning. Having got rid
of Iris, she went immediately to have an interview with her husband in
his study.

"Well, William," she said, "I own myself beaten."

"My dear Jane--beaten? In what way?"

"Here's a pretty mess," continued Mrs. Dolman; "Orion and Diana cannot
be found, and Dr. Kent says that Iris is going to be very ill."

"Iris going to be ill?" repeated Mr. Dolman. "Has she caught anything
taking. If so, Jane, it would be our duty to separate the children
immediately."

"Oh, nonsense, William! Where would she take a catching complaint in a
wholesome, well-sanitated rectory like this? Have you never heard of
nerve troubles?"

Mr. Dolman opened his sleepy eyes and stared full at his wife.

"My dear," he said, "I often thought that _you_ had never heard of
them. So you really believe in them at last?"

"I am forced to when that pretty child is dying from the effects of
them."

Mrs. Dolman then repeated to her husband all that Dr. Kent had said.

"I cannot stand the responsibility any longer," she said. "I will send
a cablegram to David this very day. What will he think of me? Of
course he will never forgive me. In the meantime, William, have you
anything to propose about little Iris?"

"Yes," answered Mr. Dolman. "There may not be much in my suggestion;
but the fact is, I feel dreadfully restless, sitting here day after
day, doing nothing."

"William, what do you mean?" answered his wife. "Sitting here day
after day, doing nothing! Have you not your parish to attend to?"

"Oh, I don't mean that--you attend to the parish, my love."

"Thank you, William, for acknowledging that fact at last."

"I frankly acknowledge it. Then, too, we have no sick poor in the
parish, and everything is really in a prosperous condition; but the
fact is, I hate sitting down to my comfortable meals, and lying down
at night on my comfortable bed, not knowing in what part of the worl