hour before, Aunt Melissa had tiptoed in to see her darling; the
finger-tips seemed cold in her excited palm, the nails looked bluish
to her dreading eyes, and she retreated to the back porch-steps, threw
her apron over her head and sat weaving to and fro, inconsolate; nor
would she look up even when the big motor panted into sight out of a
cloud of dust, and stopped. "It is too late, too late," moaned Aunt
Melissa. Dr. Harkins and Judge Rivers met the neurologist. The former
reviewed the case in a few sentences. The Judge simply said: "Doctor,
my whole savings are nothing. I would give my life for hers."

In the sick-room tensity had given place to intensity, as with deft,
skillful directness the doctor made his examination. He had finished;
the light had again been dimmed, and in the added shadow the haggard
face seemed ashen. Motionless, thoughtful, interminably silent, the
expert stood, holding the sick girl's hand. The nurse first saw him
smile. It was a serious smile; it was a strangely hopeful smile--a
smile which was instantly reflected in her own face and which the
mother caught and Dr. Harkins saw. Each one of them was thrilled with
such thrills as become rare when the forties have passed, thrilled
even before they heard his words: "It is not meningitis. Your daughter
can get well."

In the conference which followed, Dr. Harkins felt that his confidence
had been well placed. It is surprising how much the expert had
discovered in forty minutes,--and how carefully considered and
relentlessly logical were his reasons for deciding that it was an
"auto-toxic meningismus, secondary to renal and pancreatic
insufficiency," which, translated, signifies a self-produced poison
due to defective action of the liver and pancreas, resulting in
circulatory disturbance in the covering of the brain. Most clearly,