Dr. Arthur Conly rode briskly up the avenue at Roselands, dismounted,
throwing the bridle to a servant, and went up the steps into the veranda,
whistling softly to himself.

"You seem in good spirits, Art," remarked Calhoun, who sat there with the
morning paper in his hand. "I haven't heard you whistle before for--well I
should say something like a fortnight."

"I am in good spirits, Cal, the Ion children are out of danger, and uncle
has just had a telegram from Ned announcing the safe arrival of their
party in New York in good season to take the steamer."

"I presume this tells the same story, though I can't think why it isn't
directed to grandpa, or to me as the eldest son of the house," Calhoun
said, handing an unopened telegram to his brother.

Arthur tore it hastily open, glanced at the contents and paled to the very
lips.

"What is it?" cried Calhoun in alarm.

"Mother!" said Arthur huskily, putting the paper into his brother's
outstretched hand. "She has been struck down with apoplexy. Cal, I must
take the first train for New York. Look at the paper, see when it leaves.
Thank God that those children are out of danger! But I must see whom I can
get to take charge of them and my other patients during my absence."

Then calling to a servant he directed a fresh horse to be saddled and