The nurse, wisely provident against a time of waking, was dozing in her chair.... How strange it was to be here in this house--the house of her enemy--the man whose grip had been on her heart for five long years! She had reason to hate him! How hard and unrelenting he had been! how bitterly hard! And yet-- Going over the events of this day, one by one, she could not say that at close range he had seemed other than a man of flesh and blood. CHAPTER XXXIX SHOULDER TO SHOULDER In the days that followed there was fierce battle made for the child's life, and the rival claimants fought side by side. For once all animosities were laid aside, all bitterness forgotten. They were making common cause now against man's implacable foe, and nothing draws us together like a community of interests or fears. Physicians, nurses, servants,--all gave their best aid--there is something about a fight with death that instantly fills the ranks--but it was upon these two that the stress fell. And they shared it. By one of those unaccountable fancies of a sick person, Philip had taken a dislike to the nurse, and would let her do nothing for him. The other one had been sent back the morning after she came. "Do you think we had better change?" asked Mr. De Jarnette of the doctor. "Still, the nurse seems faithful and competent. It is a most unfortunate notion he has taken." "Children have very poor judgment," said Dr. Anderson, satirically. He knew how matters stood with the De Jarnettes and was not on the side of the testamentary guardian. "It is not unusual for them to prefer the most inexperienced mother to a competent nurse. No. Let it alone. It will work itself out." It worked itself out by their taking almost entire charge of him themselves. The nurse was always there, it is true, to direct, to warn, to prepare draughts and appliances, but it was they who must administer, for Philip would have it so. "I want Unker Wichard to hold me," he said one day. "Mama will hold you, darling," Margaret answered with quick jealousy. "I want Unker Wichard to hold me." And she looked on while Richard settled himself in the big chair and took the child in his arms. She turned away as she saw Philip's look of content. "It is because Mr. De Jarnette is stronger," the nurse said in a low tone, seeing Margaret's look. "Children love a man's strength. It rests them." "I want mama to hold my hand," said Philip from the depths of his uncle's arms. And Margaret taking a stool sat close beside the big chair and held the little feverish hand. He dropped asleep at last, and fearing to wake him they sat thus for a long time--a long, long time it seemed to Margaret. But she could not get her hand away without his clutching it and murmuring, "I want _mama_, Unker Wichard."