He knew when to listen and when not to listen,--to learn everything from
the quivering bundle of nerves before him without seeming to have learnt
anything alarming; he smiled when it would do her good to be laughed at,
and treated her with such grave respect that she could not feel herself
trifled with, nor remember afterwards any point of neglect. When he rose
and left some medicines, with directions to Grace for giving them and
instructions for contingencies, she followed him from the room.

"Well?" she said anxiously.

"Mrs. Maynard is threatened with pneumonia. Or, I don't know why I should
say threatened," he added; "she has pneumonia."

"I supposed--I was afraid so," faltered the girl.

"Yes." He looked into her eyes with even more seriousness than he spoke.

"Has she friends here?" he asked.

"No; her husband is in Cheyenne, out on the plains."

"He ought to know," said Dr. Mulbridge. "A great deal will depend upon
her nursing--Miss--ah--Dr. Breen."

"You need n't call me Dr. Breen," said Grace. "At present, I am Mrs.
Maynard's nurse."

He ignored this as he had ignored every point connected with the
interview of the morning. He repeated the directions he had already given
with still greater distinctness, and, saying that he should come in the