paused, finger in mouth, to utter a valedictory "Bad
case" before making his way downstairs with a shadowy, mystic smile.

Kind neighbours called, and well-meaning but mistaken dissenting
missionaries left religious works of a morbid nature, eminently suitable
to the sick-bed; but Joseph, Marie, and Nestorius were the only three
who had free access to the quiet room.

And all the while the rain fell--night and day, morning, noon, and
evening--as if the flood-gates had been left open by mistake.

"Sloobrious, no doubt," said Joseph, "but blamed depressing."

And he shook his head at the lowering sky with a tolerant smile, which
was his way of taking Providence to task.

"Do y' know what I would like, missis?" he asked briskly of Marie one
evening.

"No."

"Well, I'd like to clap my eyes on Miss Gordon, just a stepping in at
that open door--that's what we want. That sawbones feller is right when
he says the progress will be slow. Slow! Slow ain't quite the word. No
more ain't progress the word--that's my opinion. He just lies on that
bed, and the most he can do is to skylark a bit with Nestorius. He don't
take no interest in nothin', least of all in his victuals--and a man's
in a bad way when he takes no interest in his victuals. Yes, I'll take
another pancake, thankin' you kindly. You've got a rare light hand for
pancakes. Rare--rare ain't quite the word."

"But what could Miss Gordon do?" asked Marie.

"Well, she could kinder interest him in things--don't you see? Him and
I we ain't got much in common--except his clothes and that confounded
beef-tea and slushin's. And then there's Mr. Gordon. He's a good
hearty sort, he is. Comes galamphin' into the room, kickin' a couple
of footstools and upsettin' things promiscuous. It cheers a invalid up,
that sort o' thing."

Marie laughed in an awkward, unwonted way.

"But it do, missis," pursued Joseph, "wonderful; and I can't do
it myself. I tried the other day, and master only thought I'd been
drinkin'."

"You are impatient," said Marie. "He is better, I know. I can see it.
You see it yourself--yes?"

"A bit--just a bit. But he wants some one of his own station in life,
without offence, Mistress Marie. Some one as will talk with him about
books and evenin' parties and things. And--" he paused reflectively,
"and Miss Gordon would do that."

There was a little silence, during which another pancake met its fate.

"You know," said Joseph, with sudden confidence,