ula's bedside, she
smiled and murmured at him, and nodded weakly when he
spoke. The doctor warned him about noise.

"'We've won her back,' he explained, 'and she's going to do
well. But she has had a hard time, and there's no denying
she is very weak and ill. So if you go back to your bell--
ringing or any of those games you'll undo everything. She's
to be kept quiet, do you hear?'

"'I hear,' answered the Predikant. 'There shall be
stillness. Not that it matters for all your words, but
there shall be stillness.'

"'I warn you,' retorted the doctor seriously, 'that it
matters very much. You're off your axle, my friend, and I
shall have to doctor you. But if I hear of any foolishness,
Predikant or no Predikant, I'll have you locked up as sure
as your name's Mostert.'

"He left him there, and started through the garden to his
cart that stood in the road. On his way he stubbed his foot
against something that lay on the earth--a great metal cup.
He picked it up.

"'I am not a heathen,' he said, as he brought it to the
Predikant, 'and therefore a Communion-cup is no more to me
than a sardine tin, when it is out of its place. I don't
want to know what you were doing out here the other night,
my friend; but you had better put this back in the Kerk
before somebody misses it.'

"The Predikant took it from him, but said nothing.

"'And look here,' went on the doctor, 'it was my skill and
knowledge that saved your wife. Nothing else. Good-day.'

"As he drove off, he saw the Predikant still standing on
the stoop, the great cup, stained here and there with
earth, in his hand.

"From that hour Paula mended swiftly. Even the doctor was
surprised at the manner in which health sped back to her,
and the young roses returned to her cheeks.

"'There's more than medicine in this,' he said one day. 'Do
you know what it is, Predikant?'

"'Yes,' said the Predikant.

"'You do, eh? Well, it's clean young blood, my friend, and
nothing else,' answered the doctor, watching him with a
slight frown of shrewdness.

"The Predikant said nothing. For days there had been a kind
of gloom on him, lit by a savage satisfaction in the
betterment of his wife. His manner was like a midnight, in
which a veld-fire glows far off. He had grown thinner, and
his face was lean and gray, while in his eyes smouldered a
spark that had no relation to joy or triumph.

"'Clean young blood,' repeated the doctor. 'No miracles, if
you please.' He though