and apparently unable to get into bed. Emeline sent Julia flying to a
neighbour, made George as comfortable as she could in the big bed, and
listened, with a conviction as firm as his own, to what he believed to
be parting instructions and messages.

"I'm going, Em," said George heavily. "I'm worse now than I was when I
started for home. I wanted to see you again, baby girl, and Julia, too.
I--I can't breathe----"

Julia presently came flying in with a doctor and with a neighbour, Mrs.
Cotter, who had telephoned to him. The doctor said that George had a
sharp touch of influenza, and Emeline settled down to nurse him.

George was a bad patient. He had a great many needs, and he mentioned
one after another in the weighty, serious tone of a person imparting
valuable information.

"Ice--ice," said George, moving hot eyes to meet his wife's glance as
she came in. "And take that extra blanket off, Emeline, and--no hurry,
but I'll try the soup again whenever you say--I seem to feel weak. I
must have more air, dear. Help me sit up, Em, and you can shake these
pillows up again. I think I'm a good deal sicker man than Allan has any
idea----"

Emeline got very tired of it, especially as George was much better on
the third day, and could sit up. He developed a stiff neck, which made
him very irritable, and even Julia "got on his nerves" and was banished
for the day to the company of the cheerful Jewish family who lived on an
upper floor. He sat in an armchair, wrapped in blankets, his rigid gaze
roving a pitifully restricted perspective of street outside the window,