His voice was growing very feeble and husky. Annie poured some medicine into a glass and brought it to him. “Now,” said she, coaxingly, as she slipped her hand under his pillow to raise his head, “you had better drink this, and then lie still for a little while. You are not very strong yet, you know.” “I sha’n’t drink it--I won’t have that vile stuff poured down my throat!” said he, in a weak, dogged whisper. “You had better take it. Can’t you feel how weak your voice is getting?” said Annie, persuasively. “I won’t take that, I tell you! That won’t do--do me--any good! Fetch me some brandy-and-soda.” “No, I can’t do that; it wouldn’t be good for you.” “Do you hear what I say? Fetch me some brandy-and-soda!” He made a feeble, spasmodic effort to knock the glass out of her hand; but she held it out of his reach, and, laying his obstinate head, which she was still supporting, gently down on the pillow again, she put the medicine down on the table. “Don’t you mean to obey me? I won’t drink your filthy poisons! If you want to get rid of me you had better doctor some brandy for me, and then perhaps I’ll take it.” “The brandy by itself would be poison to you now, without my doctoring,” said Annie, quietly. “As soon as you are well again you can drink what you like, you know; and the more faithfully you follow the doctor’s orders now, the sooner you will be able to drink as much brandy as you please.” She said it in a very soft, gentle voice; but she could not quite keep the scorn she felt for him out of the last words. Weak tears of impotent anger gathered in Harry’s eyes. “You treat me like a dog! A fine make-believe your wifely duty is. When I’m well again I’ll turn you out of the house at an hour’s notice--that I will!” She saw that he was exciting himself dangerously; and fearing the effects of this emotion upon him in his weak state, she took the hand he was convulsively clinching on the bedclothes in one of hers, and putting her lips to it, said, in the most winning tone the actress could assume: “My poor dear Harry, I would give you what you want if I dared; and when the doctor comes, I will ask if you may have it. And I will go away when you like; but you will let me stay until you are well, won’t you?” Harry was touched by this unexpected appeal. “All right; you may stay,” he murmured magnanimously. “And won’t you let me give you your medicine? I’ll drink some of it first, if you like, to show you it isn’t poison.” “No, that is only nonsense. I’ll take it,” whispered the grumpy invalid, conquered; and when he had drank it, and she laid his head gently down again, he said, “Thank you. You may kiss me if you like, old girl.” Annie availed herself of this permission--not enthusiastically, but still not without a touch of tenderness; and she sat in the chair by the bedside until he went quietly off to sleep again.