"He is more quiet, and I try to think he is better, but doctor won't say that he is. Ah, there he is coming now." A carriage drove rapidly to the door, and the physician sprang up the steps as if the hours were short for the increasing pressure of his work. "Miss Amy, why are you here yet? I hoped that you and your little sister were on your way to the mountains," he said, taking her hand. "Please do not speak of it again," she replied. "I cannot leave father and mother, and Bertha, you know, is too young and nervous a child to be forced to go away alone. We must all remain together, and hope the best from your skill." "God knows I'm doing all in my power to save my dear old friend Poland," said the physician huskily, and then he shook his head as if he had little hope. "How is he now?" "Better, I think. Dr. Orton, this is the friend of whom I spoke, Mr. Haldane." "You have always lived at the North?" asked the physician, looking the young man over with a quick glance. "Yes, sir." "Do you realize the probable consequences of this exposure to one not acclimated?" "Dr. Orton, I am a medical student, and I have come to do my duty, which here will be to carry out strictly your directions. I have only one deep cause for anxiety, and that is that I may be taken with the disease before I can be of much use. So please give me work at once." "Give me your hand, old fellow. You do our profession credit, if not fully fledged. You are right, we must all do what we can while we can, for the Lord only knows how many hours are left to any of us. But, Amy, my dear, it makes me feel like praying and swearing in the same breath to find you still in this infernal city. A friend promised to call this morning and take you and your sister away." "We cannot go." "Well, well, as long as the old doctor is above ground he will try to take care of you; and this young gentleman can be invaluable if he can hold on for a while before following too general a fashion. Come, sir, I will install you as nurse at once." "Doctor, Doctor Orton, what have you brought for me?" cried a childish voice and a little girl, fair and blue-eyed, came fluttering down the stairs, intercepting them on the way to Mr. Poland's room. "Ah! there's my good little fairy," said the kind-hearted man, taking her in his arms and kissing her. "Look in my pockets, little one, and see what you can find." With delightful unconsciousness of the shadows around her the child fumbled in his pockets and soon pulled out a picture-book. "No candy yet?" she exclaimed in disappointment. "No candy at all, Bertha, nothing but good plain food till next winter. You make sure of this, I suppose," he said significantly to the elder sister. "Yes, as far as possible. I will wait for you here."