water. Where is Mrs. Kurd? Somebody must go for
the doctor."

Dora went to the wash-basin, while her aunt ran for Mrs. Kurd, and begged
her to send for the doctor to come immediately; it was a case of shooting,
and no one could tell how dangerous it might prove.

The doctor came as quickly as possible. He examined the wound, stopped the
bleeding, bound it up without a word, in spite of Aunt Ninette's
pertinacious attempts to make him express an opinion. He then took his hat
and made for the door.

But Aunt Ninette followed him up before he could make good his retreat.
"Do tell me, doctor, will her arm be lame? Stiff all the rest of her
life?"

"Oh, I trust not. I will call again to-morrow;" and the doctor was gone.

"'Oh I trust not,'" repeated Aunt Ninette in a despairing tone, "that's a
doctor's way of saying 'yes, of course.' I understand perfectly. What will
become of us? How shall we ever live through this misfortune?"

And she kept on fretting in this way until late into the evening.

When Wili's mother went in to hear her little boy's prayers that night,
she did not find him as usual, cheerfully sitting up in bed, ready for a
good chat with her, if she would stay. He was crouched down all in a heap,
and did not even look up at her, nor speak to her, when she sat down by
him.

"What is the matter with my little boy?" said she gently, "have you
something wrong in your heart? have you been doing what you ought not?"

The child made an unintelligible sound, neither yes nor no.

"Well, say your evening hymn, Wili; perhaps that will make you feel
better," said his mother.

Wili began:

"The moon climbs up the sky,
The stars shine out on high,
Shine sparkling, bright and clear"--

and so on, but his thoughts were not on what he was saying; he was
listening to every sound outside the room, and he kept looking towards the
door as if he expected something terrible to come in at any moment; and in
his restless movements it was plain to see what a state of fear he was in.
When he had reached the end of his hymn,

"Oh Father, spare thy rod;
Send us sweet sleep, Oh God;
Let our sick neighbor slumber, too"--

he suddenly burst into tears, and clinging tight to his mother he sobbed
out,

"The child will not be able to sleep, and God will punish us dreadfully."

"What are you talking about, dear Wili?" asked his mother tenderly. "Come,
tell me what has happened. I have seen all