to see, but I am going to prescribe a special little supper for you,
which Helen is to see you eat before you go to bed. Good-night, dear.
Please ask Nurse, too, if you can do anything in the morning to help her
with baby. Good-night, good-night, both of you. Why the little creature
is quite taking to you, Polly!"

Dr. Maybright was about to leave the room when Polly called him back.

"Father, I must say one thing. I have been in a dreadful, dreadful dream
since mother died. The most dreadful part of my dream, the blackest
part, was about you."

"Yes, Polly, yes, dear."

"You were there, father, and you let her die."

Dr. Maybright put his arm round the trembling child, and drew her and
the baby too close to him.

"Not willingly," he said, in a voice which Polly had never heard him use
before. "Not willingly, my child. It was with anguish I let your mother
go away. But Polly, there was another physician there, greater than I."

"Another?" said Polly.

"Yes, another--and He prescribed Rest, for evermore."

All her life afterwards Polly remembered these words of her father's.
They calmed her great sorrow, and in many ways left her a different
child.