Everett bowed. Sally could hear Uncle John's teeth chattering and his voice had been very shaky as he finished. "Let Fox prescribe for you, Uncle John," she said. "I'm worried about you. What's the use of having a doctor in the family if he doesn't prescribe when there is need?" And then Sally was thankful that it was dark. Uncle John smiled his assent and Fox prescribed. "I have no doubt that Captain Forsyth will have certain remedies at hand," he concluded, "and I should think there would be no harm in your taking them, in moderation." Uncle John laughed. "He will press them upon me," he said. "I will observe Doctor Sanderson's prescription. Now, good-night. No, Sally, Stephen's is just around the corner, you know." He disappeared into the darkness and Sally, with much inward misgiving, prepared to follow Everett. She was really worried about Uncle John. He was an old man, just upon eighty, and he had gone through a great deal that night and was chilled through, she was afraid, and-- She stopped short. "Oh, Fox," she cried. "The servants! I had forgotten them. What in the world shall we do with them?" Everett had stopped, too, and heard Sally's question. "That is not difficult," he said. "Send them to our house. It is a large house and there is room for them in the servants' wing. Perhaps I can find them." Everett was back in a moment. "That was easy," he remarked. "You need give yourself no concern." They walked in silence up the long driveway, between the rows of shadowing spruces, and up the broad granite steps. Everett had his key in the latch and threw open the door. "My mother did not come down, apparently. You will see her in the morning." As she took off her furs in the hall, Sally was very grateful for the warmth and the cheerfulness and the spaciousness of the great house. Everett slipped off his coat of sables and led the way up the stairs. "Your room, Sally--I shall call you Sally?" He looked at her, but not as if in doubt. "Why, of course," said Sally in surprise. "Your room, Sally," he resumed, "is down that hall, just opposite my mother's. The door is open and there is a light. Doctor Sanderson's is this way, near mine. I will show him. Good-night, Sally." "Good-night," she answered; "and good-night, Fox." They turned and she went down the hall, her feet making no sound in the soft carpet. The door which Everett had pointed out as his mother's stood ajar, and, as Sally passed, it opened wider and Mrs. Morton stepped out. "You are very welcome, Sally, dear," she said, kissing her; "as welcome as could be. I will see Doctor Sanderson in the morning. Come down whenever you feel like it. It has been a trying night for you." Sally's eyes were full of tears as she softly closed her own door. CHAPTER VI