with alacrity: "Certainly. Bring her in,
Mrs. Colman."

Selma rose. "Wait until I can get out of the way," she cried.

"Sit down, and sit still," commanded Victor.

Selma continued to move toward the door. "No--I don't wish to see
her," she said.

Victor chagrined her by acquiescing without another word. "You'll look
in after supper?" he asked.

"If you want me," said the girl.

"Come back here," said Victor. "Wait, Mrs. Colman." When Selma was
standing by the bed he took her hand. "Selma," he said, "don't let
these things upset you. Believe me, I'm right. Can't you trust me?"

Selma had the look of a wild creature detained against its will. "I'm
not worried about the party--and the paper," she burst out. "I'm
worried about you."

"But I'm all right. Can't you see I'm almost well?"

Selma drew her hand away. "I'll be back about half-past seven," she
said, and bolted from the room.

Victor's good-natured, merry smile followed her to the door. When the
sound of her retreat by way of the rear of the house was dying away he
said to Mrs. Colman:

"Now--bring in the young lady. And please warn her that she must stay
at most only half an hour by that clock over there on the mantel."

Every day Jane had been coming to inquire, had been bringing or sending
flowers and fruit--which, by Dr. Charlton's orders, were not supposed
to enter the invalid's presence. Latterly she had been asking to see
Victor; she was surprised when Mrs. Colman returned with leave for her
to enter. Said Mrs. Colman:

"He's alone. Miss Gordon has just gone. You will see a clock on the
mantel in his room. You must not stay longer than half an hour."

"I shall be very careful what I say," said Jane.

"Oh, you needn't bother," said the ex-school teacher. "Dr. Charlton
doesn't believe in sick-room atmosphere. You must treat Mr. Dorn
exactly as you would a well person. If you're going to take on, or put
on, you'd better not go in at all."

"I'll do my best," said Jane, rather haughtily, for she did not like
Mrs. Colman's simple and direct manner. She was used to being treated
with deference, especially by the women of Mrs. Colman's class; and
while she disapproved of deference in theory, in practice she craved
it, and expected it, and was irritated if she did not get it. But, as
she realized how unattractive this weakness was, she usually took
perhaps more pains than does the average person to conceal it. That
day he