She was evidently addressing Mr. Roberts, but she looked at Flossy. The
fair, sweet face, that gave her such sympathetic glances, seemed the one
to appeal to. Mr. Roberts, however, discerned that he was mistaken for
the employer, and immediately dispelled the idea by asking where the boy
worked, and how the accident had happened.

"It was the elevator, sir," she said, eagerly. "The chain broke, and it
went down with a bang, and Mark was on it, and he rolled off somehow,
he doesn't know how; and he has been that bad that he couldn't tell me
if he had. He was kind of wild, sir, all night, and talking about his
place."

"Was there no one but you to be with him during the night?" Mrs. Roberts
asked. "Where is the mother?"

"We've got no mother, ma'am; there is only Mark and me--and father,"
she added, after a doubtful pause. "But father was not at home last
night. Oh, I didn't need no one to take care of Mark. I wouldn't have
left him."

"And he likes to have you take care of him, I am sure. What do you give
him to eat? He will need nourishing food, I think; beef teas and broths,
and nice little tempting dishes, made with milk, perhaps. Are you his
cook, too? I wonder if you wouldn't like to have me show you how to make
good things for him? I've learned how to make some nice dishes that sick
people like."

Before the bewildered girl could answer, the doctor turned abruptly
from his long examination of his patient, and gave the guests the first