ence
despite her concern for Wilbur.

"I see," he answered dryly, and for an instant there was a twinkle in
his eyes. Yet he added, "To make a correct diagnosis it is important to
know all the facts of the case."

"Of course," she said solemnly, reassured in her belief that she was
being consulted and was taking part in the treatment of her husband's
malady.

She accompanied Dr. Page to Wilbur's bed-side. He conversed in a cheery
tone with his friend while he took his temperature and made what seemed
to her a comparatively brief examination. Selma jumped to the conclusion
that there was nothing serious the matter. The moment they had left the
room, the doctor's manner changed, and he said with alert concern:

"Your husband is very ill; he has pneumonia. I am going to send for a
nurse."

"A nurse? I will nurse him myself, Dr. Page."

It seemed to her the obvious thing to do. She spoke proudly, for it
flashed into her mind that here was the opportunity to redeem the
situation with Wilbur. She would tend him devotedly and when he had been
restored to health by her loving skill, perhaps he would appreciate her
at her worth, and recognize that she had thwarted him only to help him.

The doctor's brow darkened, and he said with an emphasis which was
almost stern: "Mrs. Littleton, I do not wish to alarm you, but it is
right that you should know that Wilbur's symptoms are grave. I hope to
save his life, but it can be saved only by trained skill and attendance.
Inexperienced assistance, however devoted, would be of no use in a case
like this."

"But I only wished to nurse him."

"I know it; I understand perfectly. You supposed that anyone could do
that. At least that you could. I shall return in an hour at the latest
with a nurse who was trained for three years in a hospital to fit her to
battle for valuable lives."

Selma flushed with annoyance. She felt that she was being ridiculed and
treated as though she were an incapable doll. She divined that by his
raillery he had been making fun of her, and forthwith her predilection
was turned to resentment. Not nurse her husband? Did this brow-beating
doctor realize that, as a girl, she had been the constant attendant of
her invalid father, and that more than once it had occurred to her that
her true mission in life might be to become a nurse? Training? She would
prove to him that she needed no further training. These were her
thoughts, and she felt like crying, because h