"She may have a drink, but only a little at a time. And I wouldn't let it be too cold. She really gets enough water with her medicine." Soon they brought Clematis a little water in a cup. She raised her head and drank it, but then made a face and turned her head away. "It isn't any good," she said. That evening old Doctor Field came again. He looked carefully at Clematis, and shook his head. "I guess it's only a slow fever. It's nothing catching," he said. "She'll be better in a few days." The few days passed, but Clematis was not better. At night she was restless, and slept little. Even when she did sleep, her slumber was disturbed by bad dreams. She talked to herself during these dreams, though people couldn't understand what she said. Doctor Field came to see her every day or two, but he could not tell what her sickness was. He always said: "Just give her the medicine as directed, and she will be better soon." Miss Rose had asked Mrs. Snow if she might take care of her, for she had come to love little Clematis, and Clematis loved her in return. The school work did not take her time very much now, so Mrs. Snow was glad to let Miss Rose care for Clematis. If she stayed away very long, Clematis would call for her. She wanted her in the room. "Mrs. Snow," said Miss Rose, one day, after Clematis had been ill more than two weeks, "I am very anxious about Clematis." "Is she no better?" "No, I feel she is worse. She keeps asking for a cold drink of water, and says she is burning up. I wish I dared give her some, and keep her cooler." "Well, I think I should follow the doctor's directions. It wouldn't be wise to do anything that is not directed by him." "Don't you suppose we could have another doctor to look at her, Mrs. Snow?" "No, I fear not; not just now, anyway." Miss Rose went back to the little room upstairs with a sad heart. She knew Clematis was very ill. That night she prayed that something might be done for the little sick girl, and the next morning she felt as if her prayers had been answered, when Doctor Field came. "I shall have to be away for a short time, Miss Rose," he said, after he looked at Clematis, and felt her pulse. "A young man, Doctor Wyatt, will take my place, and I am sure he will do all that can be done." "Can he come today?" asked Miss Rose. "I wish he could see her soon." "I will ask him. I think he will be much interested in Clematis. I should like to see her well again myself, but I must be out of town a few weeks." "Oh, I hope he will come today, and I hope he will take an interest in my little girl," said Miss Rose to herself. "I know she can be cured, if we only know what is the matter." That afternoon Doctor Wyatt came. Miss Rose was glad when she saw him, for he was so kind, and so wise, that she knew he would do the best he could. The afternoon was hot, and Clematis was covered with hot blankets, as directed by Doctor Field. Dr. Wyatt took the blankets, and threw them off.