"It's the first warning," said he; "but nothing to be frightened
about. That is, for the present."

"Is it paralysis?" asked Jane Merrick.

"Yes; a slight stroke."

"But I'll have another?"

"Perhaps, in time."

"How long?"

"It may be a week--or a month--or a year. Sometimes there is
never another stroke. Don't worry, ma'am. Just lie still and be
comfortable."

"Huh!" grunted the old woman. But she became more composed and obeyed
the doctor's instructions with unwonted meekness. Silas Watson arrived
during the forenoon, and pressed her thin hand with real sympathy,
for these two were friends despite the great difference in their
temperaments.

"Shall I draw your will, Jane?" he asked. "No!" she snapped. "I'm not
going to die just yet, I assure you. I shall live to carry out my
plans, Silas."

She did live, and grew better as the days wore on, although she never
recovered the use of the paralyzed limb.