and he laid the child back on the pillow.

When the doctor took the blanket from the sorrel
tethered outside Fogarty's cabin and turned his
horse's head homeward the sails of the fishing-boats
lying in a string on the far horizon flashed silver in
the morning sun, His groom met him at the stable
door, and without a word led the mare into the
barn.

The lamp in his study was still burning in yellow
mockery of the rosy dawn. He laid his case of
instruments on the desk, hung his cloak and hat to
a peg in the closet, and ascended the staircase on the
way to his bedroom. As he passed his mother's
open door she heard his step.

"Why, it's broad daylight, son," she called in a
voice ending in a yawn.

"Yes, mother."

"Where have you been?"

"To see little Tod Fogarty," he answered simply.

"What's the matter with him?"

"Croup."