trembling hand, and looked at the label.

"What is the proper dose?" he asked, seeing that a mistake had been made
by the doctor.

In a hoarse whisper Magor told him. "It may be too late," Pierre added.
He knelt down, with light fingers opened the child's mouth, and poured
the medicine in slowly. The old man stood for a time rigid, looking at
them both. Then he came round to the other side of the cradle, and seated
himself beside it, his eyes fixed on the child's face. For a long time
they sat there. At last the old man said: "Will he die, Pierre?"

"I am afraid so," answered Pierre painfully. "But we shall see." Then
early teaching came to him, never to be entirely obliterated, and he
added: "Has the child been baptised?"

The old man shook his head. "'Will you do it?" asked Pierre hesitatingly.

"I can't--I can't," was the reply.

Pierre smiled a little ironically, as if at himself, got some water in a
cup, came over, and said: "Remember, I'm a Papist!"

A motion of the hand answered him.

He dipped his fingers in the water, and dropped it ever so lightly on the
child's forehead.

"George Magor,"--it was the old man's name,--"I baptise thee in the name
of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen." Then he drew