a heartful of them ready to shed for those who are in sickness and trouble. A foolish woman, a very foolish woman indeed. 'He may die on our hands,' I said. 'Heaven forbid!' she cried. 'Heaven's forbidding it,' I sagely remarked--occasionally I say a good thing, my friend--'will not save him, if I cannot. There is healing by faith, certainly, but this hapless gentleman is not in a condition to bring faith to bear. I know what I will do. I will take him to an inn, where they will run him up a fine fat bill. His accident shall do some one good. There is the inn of the Three Black Crows. The landlord is a worthy fellow, and has a large family of round bright eyes and small red cheeks. To be sure, his wine is execrable, and he cannot cook a decent meal. But what of that? Our friend here will care little for either, and is not likely to complain of the quality. Yes, to the inn of the Three Black Crows he shall go.' My wife did not interrupt me; she never does; but she kept her eyes fixed earnestly upon my face while I was speaking, and when I had finished, she said, 'Louis, you are not in earnest.' 'Nonsense, nonsense,' said I; 'here, help me to carry this troublesome gentleman to the Three Black Crows.' 'You are not in earnest,' she repeated, and the foolish woman smiled at me through her tears; 'you know well that you have made up your mind that he shall stop here, and that I shall nurse him, with your assistance, into health and strength. His room is ready for him.' My friend, it is a rule with me never to create dissension in my home. Therefore, what could I do? Break through my rule, and cause my wife sorrow? And for you, a stranger? It was not to be thought of. That is how it has happened you have become my guest." "How can I thank you?" I murmured, much moved. "How can I thank your good wife?" "Thank me!" exclaimed Doctor Louis. "Have I not told you I had nothing to do with it? As to thanking my wife, she is never so happy as when she is nursing the sick. We really ought to pay you for the pleasure you have afforded us by spraining your ankle in the woods, and falling into a dangerous fever. Heavens, how you raved! What is the meaning of the expression I see in your eyes? Are you going to rave again?" "No; I am wondering whether the sounds of music I hear are created by my imagination." "The sounds are real sounds. It is my wife who is playing." "But the instrument?" "The zither." "Its tones are most beautiful." "It is her favourite instrument. She has sometimes played on it while you were lying unconscious, in the belief that its soft tones would not be a bad medicine for you. My daughter plays also. To conclude my explanation. During your fever your ankle has been attended to, and it is now nearly well. The sprain was so severe that it would have confined you to your bed without the fever, and as you were to have it, the two evils coming together was a piece of positive good fortune. It saved time."