somebody
tink of dis?--My dear mees, have you had dinner? Non? J'en etais sur,"
with a groan.

Mr. Brown--for that was the tutor's very English name--was so dramatic
in the expression of his good feeling that Miss Featherstone could not
repress a smile as she turned to the physician, and, taking out her
pencil and a little memorandum-book, said, "If you'll give me
directions, Doctor Harris, I think that I'm perfectly competent to take
care of the child."

Doctor Harris, who was gallant and a bachelor, made a whispered
remonstrance referring to her fatigue, but she replied gravely, "I am
in perfect health, and it never makes me ill to sit up with a sick
person: I have had experience." Some painful remembrance evidently
agitated her, for her voice suddenly failed.

They were interrupted by the sound of carriage-wheels rolling rapidly
up the avenue.

"Voici madame!" cried Mr. Brown, who flew to the door to hand Mrs.
Pinckney out.

He had taken the earliest opportunity to enlighten her as to the
child's illness, for they heard her exclaim, "I know it: oh, I have
heard of it! Where is the doctor?"

Mrs. Pinckney was tall and slight: she had blonde hair, large,
beautiful eyes--they were blue--and regular features. In short, she was
exceedingly pretty: so thought Doctor Harris, and he made many salaams
before her.

"Oh, doctor," she exclaimed, rushing up to him and grasping his arm,
"is there any danger? Tell me, is there any danger?"

"Not the slightest, ma'am," he replied promptly.

She wouldn't be reassured: "But why not? Convulsions are so serious,
they are so terrible! I had a relative who was ruined for life by
epilepsy: he was a handsome fellow, but he lost good looks, mind,
everything. Oh, Doctor Harris, don't tell me that my poor little Harry
is to have epilepsy!" She had the art of puckering her forehead into a
thousand wrinkles, yet looking lovely in spite of it.

"I certainly shall not tell you anything of the kind," said the doctor
with a reassuring smile, "for it wouldn't be true; but who is the
relative who had epilepsy?"

"Oh, a nephew of my husband, and he had a dreadful fall. He fell out of
a second-story window: it was in the country, and rather a low house,
but it finished him, poor fellow! Oh, doctor, sit down: I am tired to
death, and this news has so upset me! Will you assure me, upon your
honor, that my child will never have epilepsy?"

"Sincerely, Mrs. Pinckney, I don't think there is