tened and heard little moans that went to his heart and made
his face as sober as Phebe's. "O uncle, please stop the pain, and let me
rest a minute! Don't tell the boys I wasn't brave. I try to bear it, but
it's so sharp I can't help crying."

Neither could Charlie, when he heard the broken voice say that; but,
boy-like, he wouldn't own it, and said pettishly, as he rubbed his
sleeve across his eyes,

"Don't hold that confounded thing right under my nose; the mustard makes
my eyes smart."

"Don't see how it can, when it hasn't any more strength in it than meal.
The Doctor said so, and I'm going to get some better," began Phebe,
not a bit ashamed of the great tears that were bedewing the condemned
plaster.

"I'll go!" and Charlie was off like a shot, glad of an excuse to get out
of sight for a few minutes.

When he came back all inconvenient emotion had been disposed of, and,
having delivered a box of the hottest mustard procurable for money, he
departed to "blow up" Mac, that being his next duty in his opinion. He
did it so energetically and thoroughly that the poor Worm was cast into
the depths of remorseful despair, and went to bed that evening feeling
that he was an outcast from among men, and bore the mark of Cain upon
his brow.

Thanks to the skill of the Doctor, and the devotion of his helpers, Rose
grew easier about midnight, and all hoped that the worst was over. Phebe
was making tea by the study fire, for the Doctor had forgotten to eat
and drink since Rose was ill, and Aunt Plenty insisted on his having
a "good cordial dish of tea" after his exertions. A tap on the window
startled Phebe, and, looking up, she saw a face peering in. She was
not afraid, for a second look showed her that it was neither ghost nor
burglar, but Mac, looking pale and wild in the wintry moonlight.

"Come and let a fellow in," he said in a low tone, and when he stood in
the hall he clutched Phebe's arm, whispering gruffly, "How is Rose?"

"Thanks be to goodness, she's better," answered Phebe, with a smile that
was like broad sunshine to the poor lad's anxious heart.

"And she will be all right again to-morrow?"

"Oh, dear no! Dolly says she's sure to have rheumatic fever, if she
don't have noo-monia!" answered Phebe, careful to pronounce the word
rightly this time.

Down went Mac's face, and remorse began to gnaw at him again as he gave
a great sigh and said doubtfully,

"I suppose I couldn't see her?"

"Of course not a