"No, dear; I can't afford it out of the house-keeping money, and it is one of my rules never to run into debt for anything. Don't worry; another day will see me through, and I think the editor of the _Coleminster Gazette_ will like the articles--they're better than the ones he accepted last year." Dorothy went upstairs uneasy and dissatisfied with herself. Aunt Barbara's good-night kiss had roused something that had been slumbering for a long time. Thoughts that the girl had suppressed lately began to make themselves heard, and to clamour loudly and reproachfully. She tried to put them away, but they refused to be dismissed. With her eyes shut tight in bed, she seemed to see a vision of Aunt Barbara's tired face as she sat working, working so painfully hard in the sitting-room below. "And for me--always for me--never for herself," reflected Dorothy. "She hasn't bought a new dress of her own this spring, though she needs one badly." She looked with compunction next morning at Miss Sherbourne's pale cheeks. "Does your head ache, Auntie?" "Yes. I haven't been quite well lately, but I expect it will pass. You shall buy me some phenacetin powders in town; they always do my head good. Dr. Longton recommended them." "She looks more fit to be in bed than at her writing table," thought Dorothy, as she left the room, armed with the necessary prescription. She hurried away from school at four o'clock in order to give herself time to call at the chemist's, and ran anxiously into the house on her return, bearing the packet of powders in triumph. "Sh! Sh! Don't make a noise," said Martha, coming from the kitchen. "Your aunt's lying down. I told her it would come to this, and I've proved my words. It's an attack of her old complaint. It always comes back with overwork." "Is she really very ill?" faltered Dorothy. "I don't know. I've just sent Jones's boy with a message for Dr. Longton. No, you mustn't go disturbing her till he's been. Take your things off, and I'll bring you your tea." Dorothy ate her solitary meal in sad distress. She could remember two former illnesses of Aunt Barbara's, and she was old enough now to realize how much cause there was for alarm. She waylaid the doctor on his arrival, and begged him to allow her to be of help. "If Auntie is really going to be ill like she was before, let me be her nurse," she implored. "I learnt a great deal at the ambulance classes, and I'd carry out every single thing you told me." "We'll see. I must examine my patient first," replied her old friend. Dorothy sat on the stairs waiting with a beating heart while Dr. Longton was in Miss Sherbourne's room. She sprang up eagerly as he came out, and accompanied him to the porch. She hardly dared to ask for his verdict.