t it would be necessary for their mother to go to a
sanatorium to recuperate, and that he would send them a most capable
nurse immediately, the doctor slipped out--a neat little figure,
stepping along lightly on his toes. "Can you think straight, Ken?"
Felicia said, later, in the first breathing pause after the doctor's
departure and the arrival of the brisk young woman who took possession
of the entire house as soon as she stepped over the threshold.

"I'm trying to," Ken replied, slowly. He began counting vaguely on his
fingers. "It means Mother's got to go away to a nervous sanatorium
place. It means we're poor. Phil, we may have to--I don't know what."

"What do they do with people who have no money?" Felicia asked dismally.
"They send them to the poor-farm or something, don't they?"

"Don't talk utter bosh, Phil! As if I'd ever let you or Kirk go to the
poor-farm!"

"Kirk!" Felicia murmured. "Suppose they took him away! They might, you
know--the State, and send him to one of those institutions!"

"Oh, drop it!" snapped Ken. "We don't even know how much money it is
Mother's lost. I don't suppose she had it all in this bally mine. Who
_is_ her attorney, anyway!"

"Mr. Dodge,--don't you remember? Nice, with a pink face and bristly
hair. He came here long ago about Daddy's business."

There was a swift rush of feet on the stairs, a pause in the hallway,
and Kirk appeared at the door.

"I told Maggie," said he, "and supper's ready. And what's _specially_
nice is the toast, because I made it myself--only Norah told me when it
was done."

Ken and Felicia looked at one another, and wondered how much supper they
could eat. Then Ken swung Kirk to his shoulder, and said:

"All right, old boy, we'll come and eat your toast."

"Is the crackly lady taking care of Mother?" Kirk asked over a piece of
his famous toast, as they sat at supper.

"Yes," said Felicia. "Her name's Miss McClough. Why, did you meet her?"

"She said, 'Don't sit in people's way when you see they're in a hurry,'"
said Kirk, somewhat grieved. "_I_ didn't know she was coming. I don't
think I like her much. Her dress creaks, and she smells like the
drug-store."

"She can't help that," said Ken; "she's taking good care of Mother. And
I told you the stairway was no place to sit, didn't I!"

"I've managed to find out _something_," Ken told Felicia, next day, as he
came downstairs. "Mother would talk about it, in spite of Miss McThing's
protests, a