Mrs.
Barlow she could not lift, but, she sprinkled her face with water, and
put a pillow under her head. Then with the ghost of a hope that Pert
was but in a stupor, she rushed down the stairs, and out into the
street, toward the doctor's, a few doors away. She met him just coming
out of his gate. "Come, quick," she said; and as they hurried back she
told him in a few words what had happened.

Mrs. Barlow still lay in a state of semi-consciousness, moaning
pitifully at intervals. With all her soul in her eyes, Sadie watched
the doctor while he felt Pert's wrist and held a glass before her lips
for an indication of breathing. But his face gave never a sign of
hope, and his eyes, as he looked up, told her all. "She is dead," he
said softly. Sadie burst into a fit of uncontrollable weeping. The
doctor lifted Mrs. Barlow carefully and deposited her upon a bed in
another room.

The sound of voices was heard outside--those of Arthur and Judge Martin
talking to Mr. Barlow, who had just driven up and met them as they were
coming in. Sadie went slowly down the stairs and opened the door. The
sight of her tear-stained face startled them all. "What is it?" they
exclaimed simultaneously.

"Oh, Pert--" she began; but burst again into weeping and was unable to
continue.

The doctor appeared just behind her, and told the three men what had
happened. Mr. Barlow, his face set hard, and a ghastly white under his
yellow skin, tottered up the stairs, the doctor following. Judge
Martin penned a telegram to Checkers, and dispatched Arthur with it at
once.

"Pert is very sick. Come home," it read, and it was signed as though
from Mr. Barlow.

Fortunately, Checkers, in Little Rock, had but a few moments to wait
for the outgoing train after receiving the message; but every moment of
the journey was torture; every delay at way-stations, agony. When,
after what seemed to him like years, they at last pulled into
Clarksville, he jumped from the moving train to the platform.

Judge Martin had set for himself the unwelcome task of meeting him and
breaking the sad news. But his resolution all but failed him when
Checkers, grasping both his hands, asked breathlessly, "How is she,
sir?" his face upturned with a pleading look, as though upon the answer
depended his very life and salvation.

"She is very low, my poor boy," answered the Judge, the tears coming
into his eyes; "but you must be brave--"

"My God, my God!" breathe