As he looked at the pictures with this thought in his mind, his eye fell on the photograph of Margaret and Philip on the mantel.... He took it up and looked at it.... Yes, the halo was there as surely as in the face of Virgin mother.... They all had it. He turned the picture to the wall with a quick frown. This was brave preparation he was making for the trial which would soon be on now. As he turned the face from him the words italicized stood out from the printed slip: "_One scrap alone I hold of all that once was mine._" He pushed the picture under a book and went out of the room. Dr. Anderson did not come out till afternoon, but when he did the Baltimore man was with him. They went almost directly to the sick-room. "Let me have the nurse, please, this time," the doctor said, and Margaret, frightened and half indignant, was left outside with Richard. When the consultation was at an end, the Baltimore man would not sit down, excusing his haste on the ground that he must catch a train. Mr. De Jarnette followed him into the hall. "Doctor--" "Can't stop," said the doctor, curtly. "Dr. Anderson will say to the mother all that needs to be said." Plainly he did not recognize Mr. De Jarnette's rights in the case. "Dr. Anderson," Margaret was saying when he stepped back into the room, "what is it? I _must_ know." For a moment the doctor did not reply. When he did it was not in answer to her question. "Mrs. De Jarnette, will you sit down?" She dropped into the proffered chair. There was something in his voice that took her strength. "Mr. De Jarnette, will you too be seated? I have something of--of--importance--to communicate, and it should be said to both." Richard De Jarnette was leaning on the mantel. He did not change his position. "Go on," he said, briefly. The doctor gave a slight shrug and turned his back upon him. "My child," he said very gently, "I want to talk with you about the nature of this disease. We are not so much afraid of scarletina, or scarlet fever as you call it, as we used to be. We know better how to manage it." "Yes," murmured Margaret, not knowing to what all this tended, "he really seems to be recovering more quickly than I had even hoped--but--" "Ye--es, ye--es," continued the doctor, making carefully spaced lines on a scrap of paper and avoiding her eye. "You see it is not the disease that we are most afraid of--that is generally easy enough--it yields to treatment--but--it is--the complications that sometimes arise,--the after effects." He was looking into her face now, and she grew white to the lips. "Doctor!--" "Yes," with a slight shake of the head, "it is the after effects. I have known, many children to be left with permanent ear or eye trouble from scarlet fever. Possibly the danger may be averted--we can never tell at first--but--" "Mama!" Margaret stepped hastily into the next room. In her heart which had divined the truth she was thankful for a reprieve.