two out, close the window and door, and fill the room with
eucalyptus fumes.

Quin let them do whatever they wanted. The mere business of breathing
seemed to be about all he could attend to these days. The only point on
which he was firm was his refusal to notify his friends or to have a
doctor.

"I'll be all right when this beastly weather lets up," he said to Dirks
one Sunday night. "Is there any sign of clearing?"

"Not much. It's thick and muggy and still raining in torrents. I wish
you'd see a doctor."

Pride kept Quin from revealing the fact that he had no money to pay a
doctor. Five weeks without work had completely exhausted his exchequer.

"I'm used to these knockouts," he wheezed with assumed cheerfulness one
Sunday night. "It's not half as bad as it sounds. I'll be up in a day or
so."

Dirks was not satisfied. His glance swept the small disordered room, and
came back to the flushed face on the pillow.

"Don't you want some grub?" he suggested. "I'll get you anything you
like."

"No, thanks; I'm not hungry. You might put the water-pitcher over here by
the bed. My tongue feels like a shredded-wheat biscuit."

Dirks gave him some water, then turned to go.

"Oh, by the way," he said, "Here's a letter for you that's been laying
around at the factory for a couple of days. Nobody knew where to forward
it."

Like a shot Quin was up in bed and holding out an eager hand. But at
sight of the small cramped writing he lay back on his pillow listlessly.

"It's from Miss Isobel Bartlett," he said indifferently. "Wonder what
she's doing back in town in the middle of the summer."

"I hear they are all back," Dirks said. "The old lady is very ill and
they had to bring her home. If you want anything in the night, just pound
on the wall. I'm going to fetch a doctor if you ain't better in the
morning."

When Dirks had gone Quin opened his letter and read:

_Dear Quin:_

I am rushing this off to the factory in the hope that they have your
address and can get into communication with you at once. Mother has
had two dreadful attacks with her appendix, and the doctors say she
cannot survive another. But she refuses point-blank to be operated
on, and my brother and sister and I are powerless to move her. Won't
you come the moment you get this, and try to persuade her? She has
such confidence in your judgment, and you could always do more with
her than any one else. I am almost wi