ne of hospital appliances,
kettles, bottles, and the oxygen apparatus; it was here I heard the
joyous ravings of his loving little heart--here, on the threshold
between his own two rooms, that I even saw him with his thin arms locked
round the neck of the young nurse who had taken over the night duty.

[Illustration: His thin arms locked round the neck of the young nurse.]

She heard me. She came to the door and stood in silhouette against the
cheerful firelight of the inner room. Its glow just warmed one side of
her white cap and plain apparel, then glanced off her high white
forehead and made a tear twinkle underneath.

"He thinks I'm his mother," she whispered--"and I'm letting him!"

I went out and pulled myself together on the landing, before sneaking
back into the study without waking Coplestone.

In the morning I was dozing behind my counter without compunction, for
the vigil had been an absolutely sleepless one for me, when the glass
door opened like a clap of thunder, and in comes Delavoye rubbing his
hands.

"The doctor's grinning all round his head this morning!" he crowed. "You
may take it from me that there's a lot of life in our young dog yet."

"What's his temperature?"

"Down to a hundred and a bit. One thing at a time. They've scotched that
infernal delirium, at all events."

"Since when?"

"Some time in the night. He's not talking any rot this morning."

"But he was fairly raving after midnight. I went up and heard him
myself."

Uvo broke into exulting smiles.

"Ah! Gilly," said he, "but now we've got an angel abroad in the house.
You can almost hear the beating of her wings!"

"Is that your own, Uvo?"

"No; it's a bit of a chestnut in these days. But it was said originally
of the angel of death, Gilly, and I mean the opposite sort of angel
altogether."

"The young nurse?"

"Exactly. She's simply priceless. But I knew she would be."

"You knew something about her, then?"

"Enough to bring her down on my own yesterday, and blow the doctor! But
he's all for her now."

So, indeed, was I; for though a tear is nowhere more out of place than
on the cheek of a trained nurse, yet in none is it such welcome
evidence of human interest and affection. And there was the tender tact
of the pretence to which she had lent herself before my eyes; even as a
memory it nearly filled them afresh. Yet I could not speak of it to
Coplestone, and to Delavoye I would not, lest I were led into betraying