"And your ankle must be bathed. I should have done it before but you were sleeping so sweetly. Does your head ache, or is there any pain?" "Only that in my back; but when I am still it goes away. My ankle feels so tight. If the bandage could be loosened----" "I think it best not." Then he bathes it with the gentlest handling, until the thick layers have been penetrated. Will she have anything to eat or to drink? Had she better take the second powder? "Not unless I am restless, and I am not--very, am I?" with a soft little inquiry. "Not at all, I think," holding her wrist attentively. "Are you going to sit up all night?" she asks. "I am going to sit here awhile and put my head on your pillow, so, unless you send me away." "Send you away!" she echoes, in a tone that confesses unwittingly how glad she is to have him. Her hand is still in his, and he buries it in his soft beard, or bites the fingers playfully. Her warm cheek is against his on the pillow, and he can feel the flush come and go, the curious little heat that bespeaks agitation. It is an odd, new knowledge, pleasing withal, and though he is in some doubt about the wisdom, he hates even to move. "You are quite sure you are comfortable?" he asks again. "Oh, delightful!" There is a lingering cadence in her voice, as if there might be more to say if she dared. "You must go to sleep again, like a good child," he counsels, with a sense of duty uppermost. She breathes very regularly, but she is awake long after he fancies her oblivious. She feels the kisses on her cheek and on her prisoned fingers, and is very, very happy, so happy that the pain in her ankle is as nothing to bear. Dr. Hendricks makes a very good report in the morning. The patient's back has been strained, and the ankle is bad enough, but good care will soon overcome that. She must lie perfectly still for several days. "When can she be moved?" Mr. Grandon asks. "Moved? Why, she can't be moved at all! She is better off here than she would be with a crowd around her bothering and wanting to wait on her, as mothers and sisters invariably do," with a half-laughing nod at Grandon. "Her back must get perfectly strong before she even sits up. The diseases and accidents of life are not half as bad as the under or over care, often most injudicious." "Oh, do let me stay!" pleads Violet, with large, soft, beseeching eyes. He has been planning how she shall be honored and cared for in her own home, and does not like to yield. To have her out of the way here will gratify all the others too much. "Of course you will stay," the doctor says. "When a woman promises to obey at the marriage altar, there is always an exception in the case of that privileged and tyrannical person, the doctor." Violet smiles, and is glad of the tyranny. "She may see one or two guests and have a book to read, but she is not to sit up."