now is your own future. What in the world is to become of you?"

"Oh, _that_," answered the boy, relapsing into his sullen mood; "I
can't see that it matters much one way or another. Anyhow, I'll not
bother my head about it until the time comes and as far as you're
concerned, it's none of your business."




CHAPTER VII.

THE FIRST WARNING.


For a day or two Jane Merrick seemed to improve in health. Indeed,
Martha Phibbs declared her mistress was better than she had been for
weeks. Then, one night, the old attendant was awakened by a scream,
and rushed to her mistress' side.

"What is it, ma'am?" she asked, tremblingly.

"My leg! I can't move my leg," gasped the mistress of Elmhurst. "Rub
it, you old fool! Rub it till you drop, and see if you can bring back
the life to it."

Martha rubbed, of course, but the task was useless. Oscar the groom
was sent on horseback for the nearest doctor, who came just as day
was breaking. He gave the old woman a brief examination and shook his
head.