"Oh!" cried Dorothy, "get a glass and spoon quick, for mamma will want her 'drops' the very first thing!" As she hurried to the sitting-room she wondered why on earth her mother had not called or rang the bell, as was her custom when she was not feeling well. Entering the room she asked: "What can I do for you, mamma, and what has made you ill so suddenly?" "Anxiety for the future of my family and the unhappiness of being a disobeyed, unloved mother has made me ill!" answered the sufferer. "I am of a very sensitive and delicate temperament; I have borne the neglect of the world in patience; I have suffered for the ordinary comforts of life without a murmur." "Oh, mamma!" deprecatingly interjected Dorothy. "Hold your tongue, miss!" snapped Mrs. Lawton. "You know, as well as I do, I have not had a silk stocking to my leg for years, and I have borne it all, and lived on, some way! But when my own flesh and blood flout me, and coldly deny me a little comfort for my last days, my courage breaks, and sickness supervenes--'er--'er, perhaps I mean intervenes. I--'er--'er, well, anyway--oh, dear heaven! help me, someone! My drops! my drops!" She rolled her head frantically about and called louder and louder for "drops." Dorothy ran out, but, Mr. Bulkley stopping her in the hall, she took glass and spoon from Lena, and told her to run upstairs for mamma's drops-bottle (Mrs. Lawton smiled as she heard), and then explained that a sudden headache had attacked her mother, but her drops would relieve her and produce sleep. "Hum! Opium, I should think!" remarked Mr. Bulkley. "Oh, I hope not!" said Dorothy, and held out her hand for the bottle Lena had brought, and lo! it was empty. "Did you spill it?" she asked, in a frightened voice. "Nein! I huf not spilled nottings, my Miss Lady!" said Lena, shortly. "And my bread com' burn uf I don't go back by der kitchen!" "O--o--h! o--o--h!" groaned Mrs. Lawton. "Where are my drops? What's that? _All_ gone? Not even _one_ dose? Well, I shall die without it! I simply can't bear this pain!" She shot a meaning glance at Mr. Bulkley, who caught the cue, and exclaimed: "My poor dear friend! If this remedy can be had at Yonkers, and Miss Dorothy will direct me, I will go at once and procure these precious drops!" A distressed, a harried look came into the girl's face. "Mamma," she said, "Sybil will go and I'll stay by you." "Sybil's in New York by this time!" answered Mrs. Lawton. "I have been too ill to be able to tell you before! So, hurry your hat on and start at once!" "Dear mamma, Lena can get the drops--she knows where the store is--and then we need not trouble Mr. Bulkley." "No trouble!--no trouble at all!" pompously declared that gentleman. "Lena has an oven full of bread to watch!" snapped the suffering one, whose head seemed surprisingly clear, by spells, at least.