At first I would say: "Dearest, you must be quiet and try to go to
sleep."--"But I can't leave the meeting!" He would look at me in such
distress. So I learned my part, and at each new discussion he would get
into, I would suggest: "Here's Will Ogburn just come--he'll take charge
of the meeting for you. You come home with me and go to sleep." So he
would introduce Will to the gathering, and add: "Gentlemen, my wife
wants me to go home with her and go to sleep--good-bye." For a few
moments he would be quiet. Then, "O my Lord, something to investigate!
What is it this time?" I would cut in hastily: "The Government feels
next week will be plenty of time for this investigation." He would look
at me seriously. "Did you ever know the Government to give you a week's
time to begin?" Then, "Telegrams--more telegrams! Nobody keeps their
word, nobody."

About six o'clock in the morning I could wait no longer and called the
doctor. He pronounced it pneumonia--an absolutely different case from
any he had ever seen: no sign of it the day before, though it was what
he had been watching for all along. Every hospital in town was full. A
splendid trained nurse came at once to the house--"the best nurse in
the whole city," the doctor announced with relief.

Wednesday afternoon the crisis seemed to have passed. That whole evening
he was himself, and I--I was almost delirious from sheer joy. To hear
his dear voice again just talking naturally! He noticed the nurse for
the first time. He was jovial--happy. "I am going to get some fun out of
this now!" he smiled. "And oh, won't we have a time, my girl, while I am
convalescing!" And we planned the rosiest weeks any one ever planned.
Thursday the nurse shaved him--he not only joked and talked like his
dear old self--he looked it as well. (All along he had been
cheerful--always told the doctor he was "feeling fine"; never complained