ugged her shoulders, the tiniest bit. She didn't know. It
didn't matter what she was fit for. The world so far had been a
failure. The only important thing before her now was to do her best to
help pull the sick man out of the jaws of death, if it could possibly
be done. She sat down again, and after a time that seemed like an age
the utter blackness without began to turn to gray and, in spite of the
constantly replenished stove, the chill of the early morning struck
deep into her. As the doctor looked at his watch she rose and began to
make tea, which comforted them.

"Do you expect to keep on looking after this man?" the doctor asked
her, abruptly, between two mouthfuls.

"Yes, of course, if I may," she answered.

"I should say that you will simply have to, if his life is to be
saved, or at least if he's to have a fair chance. I shall be compelled
to go pretty soon. As it is I won't get back home before noon and
there are several bad cases I must see to-day. I'll return the day
after to-morrow; it's the best I can do, for it is absolutely
impossible for me to remain here. Now just listen to me very carefully
while I give you the necessary directions. I think I'd better write
some of them out so that you will be sure not to forget them. See if
you can find me a bit of paper somewhere."

On one of the shelves there was a small homemade desk in which she
rummaged. She found a number of loose bits of paper, some of them
scribbled over in pencil and others with ink. They were apparently
accounts, notes concerning various supplies and a few letters from
various places. Finding a clean sheet she brought it to the doctor who
rapidly wrote at length upon it. At this moment Stefan awoke, with a
portentous yawn, but a second later he had leaped to his feet and was
scanning their faces anxiously.

"I tank mebbe I doze for a moment," he informed them. "How is Hugo
gettin' long?"

"For the present he looks to me somewhat better," answered the doctor.
"There doesn't seem to be any immediate danger, and I'll have to start
back in a few minutes. We've had a cup of tea, but you'd better make
some breakfast ready."

Stefan bestirred himself and presently a potful of rolled oats was
being stirred carefully for fear of burning, and bacon was sputtering
in the pan. The kettle was singing again and Madge was cutting slices
from a loaf left by Mrs. Papineau. The three sat down to the table and
ate hungrily, abundantly, as people hav