"Oh, shut up, Dudley, don't be such an ass, as if I could have done
anything else!"

An hour after, and Roy was sitting up in bed speechless and panting,
with the bronchitis kettle in full play, and nurse trying vainly to
battle with one of his worst bronchial attacks.

"I say "--he gasped at last; "do you think--I'm going to die--this
time?"

"Surely no, my pet. It's more asthma than bronchitis; I'll pull you
round, please God."

Midnight came, and when nurse left the room for a minute she found a
small figure crouched down outside the door.

It was Dudley.

"Oh, nurse, he's very bad, isn't he? Is he going to die? What shall I
do! I shall be his murderer, I've killed him!"

Dudley's eyes were wild with terror, and nurse tried to soothe him.

"Don't talk nonsense, but go to bed; he'll be better in the morning, I
hope. It's just the wet, and the strain of it that's done it. There's
none to blame. You couldn't help it, and he's been as bad as this
before and pulled through. Go to bed, laddie, and ask God to make him
better."

Dudley crept back to bed, and flung himself down on his pillows with a