ved him with a calm
that surprised that young man beyond measure.

"Adrien is quite ready, Vic," she said.

"Topping," said Vic. "What a brick she is! Dr. Meredith didn't know
where to turn for a nurse. The hospital is full. Every nurse is
engaged. So much sickness, you know, in town. Ah, here she is. You are a
lightning-change artist, Adrien."

"How is Annette, Vic? Is she still living?" asked Patricia.

"I don't know," replied Vic, wondering at the change in the girl before
him.

"Darling," said Adrien, "I will let you know at once. I hate to leave
you."

"Leave me!" cried Patricia. "Nonsense, Adrien, I shall be quite all
right. Only," she added, clasping her hands, "let me know when you can."

When the ambulance arrived at the Maitland home, Adrien was at the door.
All was in readiness--hot water, bandages, and everything needful to the
doctor's hand.

McNish carried Annette up to the room prepared for her, laid her down
and stood in dumb grief looking down upon her.

Adrien touched him on the arm.

"Come," she said. And, taking his arm, led him downstairs. "Stay here,"
she said. "I will bring you word as soon as possible."

An hour later she returned, and found him sitting in the exact position
in which she had left him. He apparently had not moved hand or foot. At
her entrance he looked up, eager, voiceless.

"She is resting," said Adrien. "The bullet is extracted. It had gone
quite through to the outer skin--a clean wound."

"How long," said McNish, passing his tongue over his dry lips, "how long
does the doctor say--"

"The doctor says nothing. She asked for you."

McNish started up and went toward the door.

"But you cannot go to her now."

"She asked for me?" said McNish.

"Yes. But she must be kept quite quiet. The very least excitement might
hurt her."

"Hurt her?" said McNish, and sat down quietly.

After a moment's silence, he said:

"You will let me see her--once more--before she--she--" He paused, his
lips quivering, his great blue eyes pitifully beseeching her.

"Mr. McNish," said Adrien, "she may not die."

"Ma God!" he whispered, falling on his knees and catching her hand in
both of his. "Ma God! Dinna lee tae me."

"Believe me, I would not," said Adrien, while the great eyes seemed to
drag the truth from her very soul. "The doctor says nothing, but I have
seen many cases of bullet wounds, and I have hope."

"Hope," he whispered. "Hope! Ma God! hope!" His hands went to