with the children of the master he had loved as his own soul, went to the
library, looked over the papers, and had just found the information he
sought, when the sound of horses' hoofs on the avenue drew his attention,
and glancing from the window he saw the Roselands carriage drive up with
his sister, Mrs. Conly, inside.

He hastened out to assist her to alight.

"Good-morning, Horace," she said. "Is my son Arthur here?"

"Yes, Louise, he has spent the last hour or more in attendance upon our
sick little ones. Ah, here he is to speak for himself!" as the young
doctor stepped from the open doorway. "But won't you come in?"

She demurred. "Is there any danger, Arthur?"

"Danger of what, mother?"

"You certainly understood me," she said half angrily; "danger of
contagion, of course."

"None for you, surely, mother, and none you could carry home unless you
came in personal contact with the sick children."

"I shall sit here for a moment, then," she said, stepping from the
carriage and taking a chair upon the veranda. "How are they to-day?"

"The sick little ones? The disease has not yet reached its crisis."

"I hope they'll get safely over it: it's a good thing to have over. How