“Yes. And he isn't able to half look after himself when he's well, to say nothin' of when he's sick. Anybody--any woman, anyhow--could tell that just by lookin' at him. And I've brought up a father, so I've had experience. He'll stay right here in the spare bedroom to-night--yes, and to-morrow night, too, if you think he'd better. Now don't talk any more rubbish, but go in and tell him so.” Her hand was on the latch of the sitting room door when the doctor asked one more question. “Say, Martha,” he asked, “this is not my business, but as a friend of yours I--Tell me: Cap'n Jim--your father, I mean--didn't put more money than he could spare in that Development scheme, did he? I mean you, yourself, aren't--er--likely to be embarrassed in case--in case--” Miss Phipps interrupted hastily, almost too hastily, so Doctor Powers thought. “No, no, of course not,” she said. “Truly, Martha? I'm only asking as a friend, you know.” “Why, of course. There now, doctor, don't you worry about me. You know what father and I were to each other; is it likely he would leave me in trouble of any kind? Now come in and see if Primmie has talked this little sick man of ours into another faintin' fit.” Primmie had not, but the “little sick man” came, apparently, very near to fainting when told that he was to occupy the Phipps' spare bedroom overnight. Oh, he could not possibly do such a thing, really he couldn't think of it! “Dear me, Miss Phipps, I--” Miss Phipps paid absolutely no heed to his protests. Neither did the doctor, who was giving her directions concerning some tablets. “One to be taken now and another in the morning. Perhaps he had better stay in bed until I come, Martha. I'll be down after breakfast.” “All right, doctor. Do you think he's had enough to eat?” “Enough for to-night, yes. Now, Mr. Bangs,” turning to the still protesting Galusha, “you and I will go upstairs and see that you get to bed.” “But, really, doctor, I--” “What's troublin' me, doctor,” broke in Miss Phipps, “is what on earth to give him to sleep in. There may be a nightshirt of father's around in one of the trunks somewhere, but I doubt it, for I gave away almost everything of that kind when he died. I suppose he might use one of Primmie's nightgowns, or mine, but either one would swallow him whole, I'm afraid.” Doctor Powers, catching a glimpse of the expression on his patient's face, was obliged to wait an instant before venturing to reply. Galusha himself took advantage of the interval. “Why--why--” he cried, “I--Dear me, dear me, I must have forgotten it entirely. My suitcase! I--ah--it must be on the veranda of that hotel. I left it there.” “What hotel? The Restabit Inn?” “Yes. I--”