But Polly's sudden entrance had roused him, and he propped himself up anew, with a manful resolve to hold his eyes open, or die. Unfortunately it was by no means so easy for Mr. Baxter to hold his mouth shut, and yawn followed yawn, wider and still more wide, until his hand could no longer cover the opening. And yet Miss Roberts read on endlessly, remorselessly. Suddenly she was interrupted by Mr. Baxter who sprang up wildly and, with his body bent forward, his eyes distended and his mouth wide open, began plunging distractedly about the room, with both hands to his face, as if in mortal anguish. "Oh, Solomon! What is it?" And Miss Roberts sprang up, in her turn. But Mr. Solomon Baxter only paused to clasp his face more closely and groan, and then resumed his former antics. Miss Roberts was seriously alarmed. Had the man suddenly gone mad? Was he dying? "Solomon! Solomon!" she implored him. "Tell me, only speak to me and tell me what is the matter!" "'Y 'ou'," replied Mr. Baxter vehemently, but not very intelligibly. "What?" Miss Roberts hurried to his side and, bending, gazed up into his face which was still turned floorward. "'Y 'ou'; I 'aw' 'uh' 'y 'ou'," answered Mr. Baxter again, this time pointing down his throat. Miss Roberts saw that there was some trouble with his mouth. It was a relief to find that her lover was of sound mind. From his broken speech, she was beginning to fear some new, strange form of paralysis, but his wild lunges about the room relieved those apprehensions. It was only his mouth, then. She smiled sympathetically. "I understand," she said; "it is the toothache. It is very painful, while it lasts, but I have something that will stop it. Just shut your mouth and make yourself as comfortable as you can, and I will get it." But Mr. Baxter shook his head sadly. "I 'aw' 'uh' 'ih," he answered. Then Aunt Jane's courage began to fail. "Can't shut it! Oh, Solomon, Solomon! What is it?" "I 'o '_oo_'," he replied testily. Then, clasping his jaw in both hands, he began to walk the floor again, groaning dismally. Miss Roberts's tears were flowing. She felt sure that Mr. Baxter's hours were' numbered, and that she would soon be forced to look on at his funeral. Could she be a mother to his little ones, thus doubly bereaved? These thoughts passed in rapid succession through her brain; then, raising her voice to the utmost, she called for aid. That done, for the first and only time in the course of her life, Aunt Jane Roberts, the strong-minded, the firm, sank down on the sofa and quietly fainted away. This was the state of affairs which met the doctor's gaze, as he entered the room.