hing the matter, I will have to take poor
papa to the hospital."

"I would never go to the hospital, Bernardine," whined the man in a low
tone. "That will be the last of me if I ever have to go there."

"I would make no charge whatever," said Doctor Gardiner. "My services
would be rendered gratis," he added, earnestly.

The young girl looked at him with tears shining in her great dark eyes.

"We live in the tenement just around the corner, sir," she said, "on the
sixth floor. My father is David Moore, the basket-maker."

Doctor Gardiner dared not remain another moment talking with them, and
with a hasty bow he re-entered his carriage. But during the remainder of
his journey he could think of nothing but the sad, beautiful face of
Bernardine Moore, the basket-maker's daughter.

"What in the name of Heaven has come over me!" he muttered. "I have seen
a face, and it seems as though I have stepped through the gates of the
old world and entered a new one."

He collected his thoughts with a start, as the carriage reached its
destination.

He had not realized how quickly the time had passed. He resolutely put
all thoughts from him as he walked up the steps of the mansion before
which he found himself.

The door opened before he could touch the bell.

"We have been waiting for you, doctor," said the low-voiced attendant
who had come to the door.

He followed her through the magnificent hall-way, and up the polished
stairs to the apartment above, where he knew his patient was awaiting
him.

The wan face lying against the pillow lighted up as the doctor entered.
His bright, breezy presence was as good as medicine.

"You!" he cried, advancing to the couch. "Why, this will never do, Miss
Rogers! Tut, tut! you are not sick, you do not look it! This is only an
excuse to send for me, and you know it. I can see at a glance that you
are a long way from being ill, and you know it!" he repeated.

He said it in so hearty a manner and in such apparent good faith, that
his words could not help but carry conviction with them.

Already the poor lady began to feel that she was not nearly so ill as
she had believed herself to be.

But the doctor, bending over her, despite his reassuring smile and light
badinage, realized with alarm that his patient was in great danger, that
there was but a fighting chance for her life.

An hour or more he worked over her unceasingly, doing everything that
skill and science could suggest.