"Come, while I can, let me keep you circulating, Maggie!" It was not often that I called my "rare, pale Margaret" Maggie. But, at that master moment of our lives, I felt that the endearing name was best. She rose, my darling. I put my arm about her waist. "George, whatever you think it best." "That's better," said Hughes. "Now let me see you go it. Give her fits, my boy." Again he dashed into Mr. Grossmith's popular air. I never heard it played at such a rate before. Possibly with a view of raising our spirits, he shouted out the chorus in a tone of voice which must have been audible quite two streets away. It was deafening! You should see me dance the polka, You should see me cover the ground; You should see my coat-tails flying-- My coat-tails were anything but flying. We made no attempt at keeping time with Hughes. Under the most favourable circumstances the thing would have been impossible. We moved, Margaret and I, as if we were treading a funeral measure. My legs were going at the knees. I felt her frail frame quivering in my arms. "Now, then, Pybus," shouted Hughes, "off you go with Mrs. Chalmers. Don't ask her; make her. Pull her off the couch and jump her about!" Pybus appeared to be endeavouring to persuade Mrs. Chalmers to join him in the mazy dance. The lady had suddenly become still, which, for some reasons, the chief one being the noise which Hughes was making, was perhaps as well. "How can I pull her off the couch," answered Pybus, "when she's in a fit, or dead, or something?" Up jumped Hughes. "Keep going, you two! Don't stop for a single instant. Lucas, everything depends upon your keeping Miss Hammond circulating." "I can't," I said. "Nor can I," said Margaret. The utterances were almost simultaneous. Simultaneously we sank into an ottoman. "Mrs. Chalmers! Mrs. Chalmers!" shouted Hughes, "Pybus, help me to lift her off the couch. Now, then, you two, what have you stopped for?" He turned to Margaret and me. Something in our faces or in our attitudes appeared to frighten him. He ran to the door yelling in a manner which absolutely frightened me. "Brooks! Brooks! Oh, my God, why doesn't the doctor come?" CHAPTER III. DOCTORS TO THE RESCUE! Just as he reached the door it was opened. A very tall, and very stout, old gentleman entered. He had a black bag in his hand. But he did not seem to be the least in a hurry. "Good evening. I trust there is nothing serious the matter." I suppose that in the agitated state of his nervous system, the stranger's sudden appearance took Hughes by surprise. He stared at him as though he were a ghost. "Are--are you the doctor?" "I am the doctor--Dr. Goldsmith."