is a trained hospital nurse; but
her compensation is fifteen dollars a week besides her living," Doctor
Norton responded.

"I do not care what her compensation is," replied Mrs. Mencke, with a
slightly curling lip; "I wish Violet to have the best of care. Are you
sure it will not do to have her taken home?" she concluded, with an
anxious glance toward the room, where she had caught a glimpse of the
other patient as she entered.

"Very sure, madame," returned the physician, decidedly. "I would not be
answerable for the consequences if she were removed. With an efficient
nurse, the young lady can be made very comfortable here. Mrs. Richardson
has kindly resigned this room--the best she had--for her use. It is cool
and airy, and you do not need to have any anxiety about her on the score
of her accommodations. If you insist upon removing her, however, it must
be upon your own responsibility."

Mrs. Mencke thought a moment, then she said:

"Very well; it shall be as you advise, and I will come every day to
spend as much time as possible with her. Mrs. Richardson shall be well
paid, too, for her room and all inconvenience."

Mrs. Richardson's delicate face flushed again at this coarse reference
to their obligation to her. There had not been one word of thanks or
appreciation for what she had already done; it seemed as if the haughty
woman considered that her money would cancel everything.

"The dear child is welcome to the room and any other comfort that I can
give her," she said, quietly; then added: "It is time now for her fever
drops."

She leaned over the sufferer, who had again relapsed into her delirious
state, and gently put the spoon to her lips.

Violet unclosed her eyes and looked up into the kind, motherly face,
hesitated a moment, then swallowed the drops, while she murmured, as her
glance lingered on her countenance:

"You are good--I love you," then, with a sigh, she turned her head upon
the pillow and dropped into a sleep, while her companions stole from the
room to complete their arrangements for her future comfort.

"Your son--how is he?" Mrs. Mencke inquired, as they entered the
sitting-room, and she felt that it devolved upon her to make the
inquiry.

"Better, thank you. He has not so much pain, and Doctor Norton thinks
his bones are going to knit nicely. He suffers more from his bruises and
cuts than from the broken bones. I am very thankful that he has escaped
with his life," Mrs. Richardso