. She was busy with her own
thoughts. Greta stood by the bedside; anxiety was written in every line
of her beautiful, brave face.

"We must give her the gas," said one of the doctors, addressing the
other.

Mercy's features twitched.

"Who said that?" she asked, nervously.

"My child, you must be quiet," said the doctor in a tone of authority.

"Yes, I will be quiet, very quiet; only don't make me unconscious," she
said. "Never mind me; I will not cry. No; if you hurt me I will not cry
out. I will not stir. I will do everything you ask. And you shall say
how quiet I have been. Only don't let me be insensible."

The doctors consulted aside, and in whispers.

"Who spoke about the gas? It wasn't you, Mrs. Ritson, was it?"

"You must do as the doctors wish, dear," said Greta in a caressing
voice.

"Oh, I will be very good. I will do every little thing. Yes, and I will
be so brave. I am a little childish sometimes, but I can be brave, can't
I?"

The doctors returned to the bedside.

"Very well, we will not use the gas," said one. "You are a brave little
woman, after all. There, be still--very still."

One of the doctors was tearing linen into strips for bandages, while
the other fixed Mercy's head to suit the light.

There was a faint sound from the kitchen. "Wait," said Mercy. "That is
father--he's crying. Tell him not to cry. Say it's nothing."

She laughed a weak little laugh.

"There, he will hear that; go and say it was I who laughed."

Greta left the room on tiptoe. Old Matthew was still sitting over a
dying fire, gently rocking the sleeping child. Parson Christian's eyes
were raised in prayer.

When Greta returned to the bedroom, Mercy called her, and said very
softly--"Let me hold your hand, Greta--may I say Greta?--there," and her
fingers closed on Greta's with a convulsive grasp.

The operation began. Mercy held her breath. She had the stubborn
north-country blood in her. Once only a sigh escaped. There was a dead
silence.

In two or three minutes the doctor said: "Just another minute, and all
will be over."

At the next instant Greta felt her hand held with a grasp of iron.

"Doctor, doctor, I can see you!" cried Mercy, and her words came in
gusts.

"Be quiet," said the doctor in a stern voice. In half a minute more the
linen bandages were being wrapped tightly over Mercy's eyes.

"Doctor, dear doctor, let me see my boy," cried Mercy.

"Be quiet, I say," said the doctor again.

"D