, he sobbed aloud. With a nervous start, Mug arose
from her knees, and stood for an instant gazing in terror at the
trembling of the bedclothes.

"I'll bet he's in a fit. I mean to screech for Miss Alice," and Muggins
was about darting away, when Hugh's long arm caught and held her fast.
"Oh, de gracious, Mas'r Hugh," she cried, "you skeers me so. Does you
know me, Mas'r Hugh?" and she took a step toward him.

"Yes, I know you, and I want to talk a little. Where am I, Mug? What
room, I mean?"

"Why, Miss Alice's, in course. She 'sisted, and 'sisted, till 'em brung
you in here, 'case she say it cool and nice. Oh, Miss Alice so fine."

"In Miss Johnson's room," and Hugh looked perfectly bewildered. In the
room he had taken so much pains to have in order; it could not be; and
he passed his hand up and down the comfortable mattress, striking it
once with his fist, to see if it would sink in, and then, in a perplexed
whisper, he asked: "This is her room, you say; but, Mug, where are the
two feather beds?"

In a most aggrieved tone, Mug explained how Miss Adah and Aunt Eunice
had spoiled their handiwork, but could not talk long of anything without
bringing in Miss Alice.

"Where does Miss Alice pray for me?" he asked, and Muggins replied:

"Oh here, when she bese alone, and downstairs, and everywhere. You wants
to hear her?"

Yes, Hugh did.

"Mug," he said. "I am going to be crazy as a loon. I have not been
rational a bit, and you must not say I have. You must not say anything.
Do you understand?"

Mug didn't at first, but after a little it came to her that "Mas'r Hugh
was goin' to play 'possum. That Miss Alice and all dem would think him
ravin' and only she would know the truth." It would be rare sport for
Mug, and after giving her promise, she waited anxiously for some one to
come. At last another footstep sounded in the hall.

"That's her'n," Muggins whispered. "Is you crazy, Mas'r Hugh?"

"Hush-sh!" came warningly from Hugh, who, the next moment had turned his
head away from the fading light, and with eyes closed, pretended to be
asleep.

Softly, on tiptoe as it were, Alice approached the bedside, bending so
low to see if he were sleeping that he felt her fragrant breath, and a
most delicious thrill ran through his frame, when a little, soft, warm
hand was laid upon his brow, where the veins were throbbing wildly--so
wildly that the unsuspecting maiden wet the linen napkin used for such a
purpose, and bat