the mother was from home, and signing herself "Laura
Featherstone, governess."

Sooner than she would have believed possible Doctor Harris appeared: he
came in his own gig, the little driver who had been so active in the
events of the evening vanishing entirely from the scene, and, as it was
afterward remembered, in the confusion without his douceur.

Doctor Harris, a comparatively young man, was cheerful and reassuring.
"There will probably be no recurrence of the convulsions," he said,
examining the child, who was sleeping tranquilly in the young girl's
arms; "but what was the exciting cause? what has he been eating?"

"I find him with a grand heap of the raisins and the nuts," replied the
French tutor excitedly. "Madame goes to town this morning and takes la
bonne pour s'en servir--le pauvre enfant est abandonne, voila tout!"
Gesticulating with much vehemence, he sat down at the conclusion as if
exhausted by his efforts.

"What has been done for the child?" asked the physician in a cautious
whisper.

The little Frenchman rose; his eyes flashed; he waved his fat, short
arms toward Miss Featherstone: "Cette chere mademoiselle, she is one
angel from the sky: she do it all," with increased animation and
violence--"ice for his head, hot water for his feet. I could not tink,
I was so *_accable_"

This vehement declamation not being calculated to ensure the patient's
slumbers, Doctor Harris ordered the little fellow to be undressed and
put to bed immediately. "I should like to see you, my dear young lady,
when you are at leisure," he said as Miss Featherstone rose, still with
the child in her arms, and was following the maid to the nursery: "I
have directions to leave in case of a recurrence. However, I don't
think there will be any return of the convulsions," he added.

The maid, reduced to helplessness by terror, looked on while Miss
Featherstone undressed the sleeping boy. She laid him in the bed,
ordered the servant to sit by his side until her return, put the candle
on the floor so that it would not shine in his face, and went out to
meet the doctor.

"Who will be with the child during the night?" was his first query.

"_Helas!_ I do not know," cried the foreigner with a gesture of
despair.

"If there is no one else to take care of him I will," replied the young
girl cheerfully.

"It is infame!" said the tutor.--"Cette chere mademoiselle has but
arrived: she is weary. Parbleu! she must be hungry. Why not