was willing to vouch for, and
that thrilled the training-school to the core--that this very Edwardes,
newly risen, as it were, and being a miracle himself as well as
performing one, this very Edwardes, carrying Sidney to her bed and
putting her down, had kissed her on her white forehead.

The training-school doubted this. How could he know Sidney Page? And,
after all, the nurse had only seen it in the mirror, being occupied
at the time in seeing if her cap was straight. The school, therefore,
accepted the miracle, but refused the kiss.

The miracle was no miracle, of course. But something had happened to K.
that savored of the marvelous. His faith in himself was coming back--not
strongly, with a rush, but with all humility. He had been loath to
take up the burden; but, now that he had it, he breathed a sort of
inarticulate prayer to be able to carry it.

And, since men have looked for signs since the beginning of time, he too
asked for a sign. Not, of course, that he put it that way, or that he
was making terms with Providence. It was like this: if Wilson got well,
he'd keep on working. He'd feel that, perhaps, after all, this was
meant. If Wilson died--Sidney held out her hand to him.

"What should I do without you, K.?" she asked wistfully.

"All you have to do is to want me."

His voice was not too steady, and he took her pulse in a most
businesslike way to distract her attention from it.

"How very many things you know! You are quite professional about
pulses."

Even then he did not tell her. He was not sure, to be frank, that she'd
be interested. Now, with Wilson as he was, was no time to obtrude his
own story. There was time enough for that.

"Will you drink some beef tea if I send it to you?"

"I'm not hungry. I will, of course."

"And--will you try to sleep?"

"Sleep, while he--"

"I promise to tell you if there is any change. I shall stay with him."

"I'll try to sleep."

But, as he rose from the chair beside her low bed, she put out her hand
to him.

"K."

"Yes, dear."

"He was out with Carlotta. He promised, and he broke his promise."

"There may have been reasons. Suppose we wait until he can explain."

"How can he explain?" And, when he hesitated: "I bring all my troubles
to you, as if you had none. Somehow, I can't go to Aunt Harriet, and of
course mother--Carlotta cares a great deal for him. She said that I shot
him. Does anyone really think that?"

"Of course not. Please stop