Mrs. Antoinette Seaver Jones, widely known for her wealth and beauty,
and this girl--a little thing of eleven--was the only child of Mrs.
Antoinette Seaver Jones, and was named Alora.

It was not cold that made her shiver, for across the handsomely
furnished room an open window gratefully admitted the summer sunshine
and the summer breeze. Near the window, where the draught came coolest,
a middle-aged woman in a sober dress sat reading. Alora did not look at
this person but kept her gaze fixed anxiously upon the doorway that led
to the corridor, and the spasmodic shudders that at times shook her
little body seemed due to nervous fear.

The room was so still that every tick of the Dresden clock could be
distinctly heard. When Miss Gorham, Alora's governess, turned a page of
her book, the rustle was appallingly audible. And the clock ticked on,
and Miss Gorham turned page after page, and still the child sat bowed
upon her chair and eagerly eyed the passageway.

It seemed ages before the outer door of the suite finally opened and a
man moved softly down the passage and paused at the entrance of the
reception room. The man was white-haired, dignified and distinguished
in appearance. Hat in hand, he stood as if undecided while Alora
bounded from her seat and came to him, her eyes, big and pleading,
reading his face with dramatic intentness.

"Well, well, my dear; what is it?" he said in a kindly voice.

"May I see my mamma now, Doctor?" she asked.

He shook his head, turning to the table to place his hat and gloves
upon it.

"Not just yet, little one," he gently replied, and noting her
quick-drawn breath of disappointment he added: "Why, I haven't seen
her myself, this morning."

"Why do you keep me from her, Doctor Anstruther? Don't you know it's--
it's wicked, and cruel?"--a sob in her voice.

The old physician looked down upon the child pityingly.

"Mamma is ill--very ill, you know--and to disturb her might--it might--
well, it might make her worse," he explained lamely.

"I won't disturb her. There's a nurse in there, all the time. Why
should I disturb my mamma more than a nurse?" asked Alora pleadingly.

He evaded the question. The big eyes disconcerted him.

"When I have seen your mother," said he, "I may let you go to her for a
few minutes. But you must be very quiet, so as not to excite her. We
must avoid anything of an exciting nature. You understand that, don't
you, Lory?"

She studied his face g