few moments in the sun!"

I walked a few blocks to the Mudgetts' in our department, to tell them
the good news, and then back; but my heart sank to its depths again as
soon as I entered Carl's room. The delirium always affected me that way:
to see the vacant stare in his eyes--no look of recognition when I
entered.

The nurse went out that afternoon. "He's doing nicely," was the last
thing she said. She had not been gone half an hour--it was just
two-fifteen--and I was lying on her bed watching Carl, when he called,
"Buddie, I'm going--come hold my hand." O my God--I dashed for him, I
clung to him, I told him he could not, must not go--we needed him too
terribly, we loved him too much to spare him. I felt so sure of it, that
I said: "Why, my love is enough to _keep_ you here!"

He would not let me leave him to call the doctor. I just knelt there
holding both his hands with all my might, talking, talking, telling him
we were not going to let him go. And then, at last, the color came back
into his face, he nodded his head a bit, and said, "I'll stay," very
quietly. Then I was able to rush for the stairs and tell Mrs. Willard to
telephone for the doctor. Three doctors we had that afternoon. They
reported the case as "dangerous, but not absolutely hopeless." His
heart, which had been so wonderful all along, had given out. That very
morning the doctor had said: "I wish my pulse was as strong as that!"
and there he lay--no pulse at all. They did everything: our own doctor
stayed till about ten, then left, with Carl resting fairly easily. He
lived only a block away.

About one-thirty the nurse had me call the doctor again. I could see