irs all day, and was just meaning to do so now that her
dishes were done. She would go up now, and let the young lady know how
her scholar was.

"Let me go with you," said Etta; but the request was only a form, as the
girl usually did just as she pleased without waiting for anybody's
permission, and, indeed, the woman of the house knew no reason why, on
this occasion, she should not follow her own inclination.

Three flights of stairs were climbed, a long narrow hall, studded with
doors on each side, traversed, and Mrs. Doyle opened one in the
southwest corner of the house, where, the sun having beaten on the
sloping roof all the afternoon, the temperature was something fearful.
The room was small, for Mr. Mountjoy had built the boarding-houses, and
desired to try the experiment of each inmate having a separate room
instead of a great many men or women being herded together in open
dormitories. It contained simply a cot, a wooden chair, and a table upon
which stood conveniences for washing and the untasted supper. On the cot
lay the German girl, blazing with fever and tossing about in the
greatest discomfort. At first she did not know her visitors, and seemed
a little frightened at seeing the room so full. But presently,
recognizing her Sunday-school teacher, she grasped her hand and drew her
down to the side of the bed, pointing to her German Bible, in which she
had been trying to study her Sunday-school lesson.

Etta was touched, and began to think there might be some interest in
even the plain, undemonstrative Gretchen. She bent down to ask her some
questions about her sickness, during which Mrs. Doyle hurried to throw
the one window wide open, and to make the disordered room fit to be
seen.

"The child is very ill, I am afraid," said Etta, coming across to the
window and speaking to the woman in very low tones; "don't you think
so?"

"Yes, I am afraid she is," said the person addressed, uneasily, for
severe illness in a large, crowded boarding-house is no light matter.
She and her children were dependent upon their boarders, and a sudden
panic might empty the house.

"Can't you send for a doctor, Mrs. Doyle? Papa will gladly pay him, I
know."

"Yes; Johnny could run, I suppose, but he'd be sure to tell somebody,
and I wouldn't like it to get about till we know what it is, any way."

"Please go yourself, then. It's after tea, and there isn't much to do."

"But suppose the girl gets worse, and begins to scr