the old house is very lonely."

The father placed his hand on his head, exclaiming:

"I never knew what loneliness meant before!" The big hand fell in a
gesture of despair. "It's dark and cold, I'm slipping down into a
bottomless pit. There's not a soul in heaven or earth or hell to whom I
can cry for help or pity."

Stuart pressed his hand.

"I understand. I'm younger than you, Doctor, but I, too, have walked
that way, the _via dolorosa_ alone."

The older man glared at him with a wild look in his eyes.

"But you don't understand; that's what's the matter, and I can't tell
you. I'm alone, I tell you, alone in a world of cold and darkness."

"No, no," Stuart interrupted soothingly. "You're just all in; you must
go to bed and sleep. Go at once, and you'll find something to cheer you
in the little girl's room, a love letter for you."

"Yes," he asked, the light slowly returning to his eyes, "a love letter
from my baby?"

"I saw it there after she left. Read it and go to sleep. I'll see you
to-night."

"Yes, yes, of course, my boy, that's what's the matter with me. I'm
just all in for the lack of sleep. I've been raving half the time, I
think. I'll go to bed at once."

When Stuart returned early from his work in the afternoon he found a
group of forlorn women and children standing beside the stoop. A pale,
elfish-looking boy of ten, whose face appeared to be five years older,
sat on the lower step crying.

"What's the matter, kiddie?" he asked kindly.

"I wants de doctor--me mudder's sick. She'll croak before mornin' ef he
don't come--dey all want him." He waved his little dirty hand toward
the others. "He ain't come around no more for a week. The goil says we
can't see him, he's asleep."

"I'll tell him you're here. The doctor's been ill himself."

The boy rose quickly and doffed his ragged cap.

"Tank ye, boss."

He urged the doctor to go at once to see his patients. The work he
loved would restore his spirits. He was dumfounded at the answer he
received.

"Tell them to go away," he said with a frown. "I can't see them to-day.
I may never be able to see them again."

"Come, come, Doctor, pull yourself together and go. I'll go with you.
It's the best medicine you can take."

He answered angrily:

"No, no! I'm in no mood to work. I couldn't help them. I'd poison and
kill them all, feeling as I do to-day. A physician can't heal the sick
unless there's healing in his own soul. I'd bring death not