rom the sky, twilight deepened
into dusk, and the stars came out in their pale glory, but both the Good
Samaritan and her patient were unconscious of it all.

In the little brown house among the maple trees great anxiety brooded.
Peace had not come home with her sisters from their flower-gathering
expedition, and no one in town had seen her. The whole neighborhood was
aroused, and a search party was just being organized when the doctor's
carriage drove up to the gate, and the physician, angry, dismayed and
alarmed, hurried up the path as fast as his avoirdupois would permit,
flung open the screen and called imperiously, "Miss Gail, girls, any of
you! It's all my fault! Peace is down at the Fisher house watching over
Annette. I sent her there this afternoon while I went after a woman to
stay with the child, and have just this minute heard that Grandma Cole
sprained her ankle on the way there and had to crawl back home again.
Mrs. Fisher, the big idiot, is moseying up the road now, well satisfied
with her bargains. I passed her and her tribe a piece back and stopped
long enough to tell her what I thought of her. Now pile in and I'll take
you back with me for that little sister of yours."

He had caught up a little shawl from the hat-rack as he talked, and
throwing this over Gail's shoulders, he bundled her out of the house and
into his buggy before she had recovered from her astonishment at his
outburst; and after a moment of furious riding behind the lively bay
horse, she found herself stumbling up the dark stairs in the unlighted
Fisher house, at the heels of the panting, puffing, wrathy doctor. From
somewhere he produced a lamp, and soon the dim rays of light dispelled
the gloom of the place, and she stood beside him, looking down into the
pale face of Annette asleep among her pillows, and the rosy one of
smiling Peace, huddled in an uncomfortable bunch on the floor.

"What a picture!" murmured the doctor huskily, leaning over to touch the
damp forehead and feel the pulse of his little patient. "This is the
first natural sleep she has had for days. Bully for Peace! I confess I
was worried about leaving her here in the first place. I was afraid she
would fret Annette into a worse fever than she already had. I'd have
gone crazy if I'd had any notion that the child must stay here all the
afternoon, with only Peace to look after her. Excuse me if I seem more
concerned about Annette's welfare than over Peace's long absence