ravely. When he held out a hand to her she clung
to it desperately and a shudder again shook her from head to foot.

"Tell me, Doctor Anstruther," in low, passionate tones, "is my mother
dying?"

He gave an involuntary start.

"Who put that notion into your head, Lory?"

"Miss Gorham."

He frowned and glanced reprovingly at the governess, who had lowered
her book to her lap and was regarding the scene with stolid unconcern.

"You mustn't mind such idle gossip, my dear. I am the doctor, you know,
and I am doing all that can be done to save your mother's life. Don't
worry until I tell you to, Lory; and now let me go to see my patient."

He withdrew his hand from her clasp and turned into the passage again.
The girl listened to his footsteps as he approached her mother's
bedchamber, paused a moment, and then softly opened the door and
entered. Silence again pervaded the reception room. The clock resumed
its loud ticking. Miss Gorham raised her book. Alora went back to her
chair, trembling.

The front bedchamber was bright and cheery, a big room fitted with
every modern luxury. The doctor blinked his eyes as he entered from the
dim passage, for here was sunlight and fresh air in plenty. Beside the
bed stood a huge vase of roses, their delicate fragrance scenting the
atmosphere. Upon the bed, beneath a costly lace coverlid, lay a woman
thirty-five years of age, her beautiful face still fresh and unlined,
the deep blue eyes turned calmly upon the physician.

"Welcome, Doctor Anstruther," she said. "Do you realize you have kept
me waiting?"

"I am sorry, Mrs. Jones," he replied, approaching her. "There are so
many demands upon my time that----"

"I know," a little impatiently; "but now that you are here please tell
me how I am this morning."

"How do you feel?"

"I do not suffer, but it takes more morphine to quiet the pain. Janet
has used the hypodermic four times since midnight," with a glance at
the gray-robed nurse who stood silently by the table.

The doctor nodded, thoughtfully looking down her. There was small
evidence of illness in her appearance, but he knew that her hours were
numbered and that the dread disease that had fastened upon her was
creeping on with ever increasing activity. She knew it, too, and smiled
a grim little smile as she added: "How long can I last, at this rate?"

"Do not anticipate, my dear," he answered gravely. "Let us do all that
may be done, and----"

"I must know!" she r