und at
those about him.

He tried to rise, and struggled feebly. Then as they held him back he
began to talk in a rapid disconnected way.

"'Bliged to take it--so hungry--yes, sir--please, sir--I've come back,
sir--come back, Mr Sibery, sir--if Mr Hippetts will let me stay--
where's Mother Curdley--where's nurse!"

"O father!" whispered Helen excitedly! "Poor, poor boy! what does this
mean?"

"Fever," said the doctor gently, as he laid his hand upon the boy's
burning forehead and looked down in his wild eyes. "Yes," he said
softly, "fever. He must have suffered terribly to have been brought to
this."

CHAPTER FORTY SIX.

FEVER WORKS WONDERS.

Doctor Grayson's book stood still.

For many years past he had given up the practice of medicine, beyond
writing out a prescription for his daughter or servants, but he called
in the services of no other medical man for poor Dexter.

"No, my dear," he said. "It is my fault entirely that the boy is in
this state, and if such knowledge as I possess can save him, he shall
come down hale and strong once more."

So Dexter had the constant attention of a clever physician and two
nurses, who watched by him night and day, the doctor often taking his
turn to relieve Helen or Mrs Millett, so that a little rest might be
theirs.

And all through that weary time, while the fever was culminating, those
who watched learned more of the poor fellow's sufferings at the
scholastic establishment, during his flight, when he toiled homeward
with an injured foot, and afterwards when he had taken possession of his
old den, and often nearly starved there, in company with his squirrel--
his old friend whom he found established in the loft, whence it sallied
forth in search of food, as its master was obliged to do in turn.

One night Helen went up to relieve Mrs Millett, and found Maria leaning
against the door outside, crying silently, and this impressed her the
more, from the fact that Peter and Dan'l had each been to the house
three times that day to ask how Master Dexter was.

Maria hurried away, and Helen entered, to find old Mrs Millett standing
by the bedside, holding one of the patient's thin white hands, and
watching him earnestly.

"Don't say he's worse," whispered Helen.

"Hush, my dear," whispered the old woman. "Ring, please, Miss; master
said I was to if I saw any change."

Helen glided to the bell, and then ran back to the bed, to stand
trembling with her hands