was so much worse that she sent to the city for a trained nurse, and
telegraphed for his father and mother.

They had already left Florida, and were yachting up the Atlantic coast
on their way home when the message reached them.

CHAPTER VIII.

"FAIRCHANCE."

Malcolm did his best to atone to Virginia for what she had suffered from
the forgetfulness of the two little Indians, but poor Keith was too ill
to remember anything about it. He did not know his father and mother
when they came, and tossed restlessly about, talking wildly of things
they could not understand. It was the first time he had ever been so
ill, and as they watched him lying there day after day, burning with
fever, and growing white and thin, a great fear came upon them that he
would never be any better.

No one put that fear into words, but little by little it crept from
heart to heart like a wintry fog, until the whole house felt its chill.
The sweet spring sounds and odours came rushing in at every window from
the sunny world outside, but it might as well have been mid-winter. No
one paid any heed while that little life hung in the balance. The
servants went through the house on tiptoe. Malcolm and Virginia haunted
the halls to discover from the grave faces of the older people what they
were afraid to ask, and Mrs. Maclntyre was kept busy answering the
inquiries of the neighbours. Scarcely an hour passed that some one did
not come to ask about Keith, to leave flowers, or to proffer kindly
services. Everybody who knew the little fellow loved him. His bright
smile and winning manner had made him a host of friends.

There was no lack of attention. His father and mother, Miss Allison, and
the nurse watched every breath, every pulse-beat; and a dozen times in
the night his grandmother stole to the door to look anxiously at the wan
little face on the pillow.

"It is so strange," said his mother to the nurse one day. "He keeps
talking about a white flower. He says that he can't right the wrong
unless he wears it, and that Jonesy will have to be shut up and never
find his brother again. What do you suppose he means?"

The nurse shook her head. She did not know. Just then Mrs. Maclntyre
heard her name called softly, "Elise," and her husband beckoned her to
come out into the hall. "I want to show you something in Allison's
room," he said, leading her down the hall to his sister's apartment. On
each side of the low writing-desk stood a large photogra