rate.

Marjorie was quieter, but still not herself. Mrs. O'Mara, who was an
experienced nurse, did not like the way she had collapsed so
completely. She was afraid it was going to be a hard illness, and she
knew Francis was breaking his heart over it.

"Still it may be a blessin' in a way," she said half aloud. "You never
can tell in this world o' grief and danger. I wonder has she people
besides Mr. Francis. They've never either of them said."

The doctor came and went, and Monday morning dawned, when Francis had
to go to work whether or no. And Pennington quietly took over
Marjorie's duties again, and the men tiptoed up to the cabin where she
lay, and asked about her anxiously, and young Peggy came over and took
turns with her mother in the nursing, and Logan, much more robust and
tanned than he had been in several years of New York life in heated
apartments, came with her and sat on the porch waiting till she came
out; and Francis saw him there, and thought nothing of it except that
he was grateful to him for being interested in Marjorie.

He realized now that it was all he need ever have thought. But he
realized so many things now, when it might be too late!

The days went on relentlessly. Finally they decided to send for her
cousin, the only relative she had. Francis was a little doubtful as to
the wisdom of this, for he knew that Marjorie had never been very happy
with her cousin, but it was one of those things which seem to have to
be done. And just as they had come to this resolution; a resolution
which felt to Francis like giving up all hope, Marjorie took a little
turn for the better.

It was not much to see. She was a little quieter, that was all, and
the nursing did not have to be so intensive. Mrs. O'Mara and Peggy did
not feel that they had to sit with her all the time; there were periods
when she was left alone. Francis felt more bitterly than anything else
that he had to go on with his work, instead of staying in the house
every moment, but it was better for him. He would have driven the
O'Maras mad, they told him frankly, walking up and down, looking
repentant. Peggy was not quite softened to him yet; but the older
woman was so sorry for him that any feelings she may have had about the
way he had behaved were swallowed up in sympathy.

"And it isn't as if he weren't gettin' his comeuppance, Peg," she
reminded her intolerant young daughter. "Sure annything he made her
suffer he's