Lou unceremoniously pushed past her down the clean little hallway and paused for a moment upon the threshold of the room at its end. It was a kitchen, small, but as immaculately clean as the hall, and in a rocking-chair near the window sat an anxious-eyed young man with his bandaged foot up on another chair before him, and in his arms a tiny, rigid little form. Lou went straight to him and unceremoniously possessed herself of the baby. Its small face was waxen, with a bluish tinge about the mouth, and half-closed, glazing eyes. "How long's it been like this?" Lou demanded sharply. "Only just a few minutes. It--it seemed like a sort of fit that he had." The young woman turned to her husband. "Jack, this little girl stopped by and said she knew all about babies, and the man with her, he's gone for----" "I want some hot water, quick!" Lou interrupted the explanations brusquely. "Boiling hot, and a tub or a big pan. Have you got the kettle on?" "Y-yes, but I'm afraid I've let the fire go out," the woman faltered. "I was so worried----" With an exclamation of impatience Lou rewrapped the baby which she had been examining and thrust it into the man's arms. Then turning to the woman with exasperation in her eyes and voice she demanded: "I s'pose you can find some dry chips, somewhere, can't you? If I don't get this baby into a hot bath right away it'll be all up with him." The woman gasped, and ran out of the back door while the young man in the chair groaned: "It's awful to sit here helpless and watch him suffer! If I could only put my foot to the floor----" "How old is he, anyway?" Lou, who was busily searching the shelf of groceries, asked over her shoulder. "He looks to be under a year." "Ten months, miss," he answered. "What do you think is the matter with him?" "Convulsion," Lou replied succinctly, as the woman rushed in once more with her apron full of chips. "Git some more, it don't matter how you clog the stove with wood ashes; we gotta git boilin' water as quick as we kin." Meanwhile Jim found the Colbert house, explained his mission, and having accomplished it, hastened back. He pulled the bell, but no one came, and knocking, found that the door yielded to his touch. Entering, he went down the hall and paused at the kitchen door just as the woman stammered: "I d-don't think there are any dry kindlings left." "Then chop some! Ain't you got any old boxes? Oh, Jim!" Lou caught sight of him in the doorway. "Find a hatchet and some light, dry wood, will you?" The fire was roaring in the stove at last, but the water was long in boiling, and the little figure in the man's arms seemed to be undergoing a subtle but inevitable change. His lips were still parted, but no faintest stir of breath emanated from them, and the rigidity had taken on a marble-like cast. The mother bent over him, moaning once more, but Lou turned upon her in swift scorn.