w Miss Burt doesn't--"

"Doesn't approve. Of course not. Perhaps you think old B. would approve
of the way you're going on now. Ha! Would she!"

The sarcasm caused a new and alarming outburst. But finally, past all
respect for Miss Burt, and even for Lady Thomson herself, Milly
consented to submit to any remedy that Tims might choose to try.

She was assisted hurriedly to undress and put to bed. Tims knew the
whereabouts of the prize-medal which Milly had won at school, and
placing the bright silver disk in her hand, directed her to fix her eyes
upon it. Seated on her heels on the patient's bed, her crimson turban
low on her forehead, her face screwed into intent wrinkles, Tims began
passing her slight hands slowly before Milly's face.

The long slender fingers played about the girl's fair head, sometimes
pressed lightly upon her forehead, sometimes passed through her fluffy
hair, as it lay spread on the pillow about her like an amber cloud.

"Don't cry, M.," Tims began repeating in a soft, monotonous voice.
"You've got nothing to cry about; your head doesn't ache now. Don't
cry."

At first it was only by a strong effort that Milly could keep her
tear-blinded eyes fixed on the bright medal before her; but soon they
became chained to it, as by some attractive force. The shining disk
seemed to grow smaller, brighter, to recede imperceptibly till it was a
point of light somewhere a long way off, and with it all the sorrows and
agitations of her mind seemed also to recede into a dim distance, where
she was still aware of them, yet as though they were some one else's
sorrows and agitations, hardly at all concerning her. The aching tension
of her brain was relaxed and she felt as though she were drowning
without pain or struggle, gently floating down, down through a green
abyss of water, always seeing that distant light, showing as the sun
might show, seen from the depths of the sea.

Before a quarter of an hour had passed, her sobs ceased in sighing
breaths, the breaths became regular and normal, the whole face slackened
and smoothed itself out. Tims changed the burden of her song.

"Go to sleep, Milly. What you want is a good long sleep. Go to sleep,
Milly."

Milly was sinking down upon the pillow, breathing the calm breath of
deep, refreshing slumber. Tims still crouched upon the bed, chanting her
monotonous song and contemplating her work. At length she slipped off,
conscious of pins-and-needles in her legs, and