This was plain enough, but it did not make my course of action plainer to me. “Is she well enough to be moved--now?” I asked. “Yes. If she is not moved she is likely to be less well.” I paid him for the visit; he gave me a prescription--“To quiet the nerves,” he explained--and went away. I was to send for him whenever his services were needed. Then I entered the room. Hephzy and Mrs. Briggs were sitting beside the bed. The face upon the pillow looked whiter and more pitiful than ever. The dark eyes were closed. Hephzy signaled me to silence. She rose and tiptoed over to me. I led her out into the hall. “She's sort of dozin' now,” she whispered. “The poor thing is worn out. What did the doctor say?” I told her what the doctor had said. “He's just right,” she declared. “She's half starved, that's what's the matter with her. That and frettin' and worryin' have just about killed her. What are you goin' to do, Hosy?” “How do I know!” I answered, impatiently. “I don't see exactly why we are called upon to do anything. Do you?” “No--o, I--I don't know as we are called on. No--o. I--” “Well, do you?” “No. I know how you feel, Hosy. Considerin' how her father treated us, I won't blame you no matter what you do.” “Confound her father! I only wish it were he we had to deal with.” Hephzy was silent. I took a turn up and down the hall. “The doctor says she should be taken away from here at once,” I observed. Hephzy nodded. “There's no doubt about that,” she declared with emphasis. “I wouldn't trust a sick cat to that Briggs woman. She's a--well, she's what she is.” “I suggested a hospital, but he didn't approve,” I went on. “He recommended some comfortable home with care and quiet and all the rest of it. Her relatives should look after her, he said. She hasn't any relatives that we know of, or any home to go to.” Again Hephzy was silent. I waited, growing momentarily more nervous and fretful. Of all impossible situations this was the most impossible. And to make it worse, Hephzy, the usually prompt, reliable Hephzy, was of no use at all. “Do say something,” I snapped. “What shall we do?” “I don't know, Hosy, dear. Why!... Where are you going?” “I'm going to the drug-store to get this prescription filled. I'll be back soon.” The drug-store--it was a “chemist's shop” of course--was at the corner. It was the chemist's telephone that I had used when I called the doctor. I gave the clerk the prescription and, while he was busy with it, I paced up and down the floor of the shop. At length I sat down before the telephone and demanded a number. When I returned to the lodging-house I gave Hephzy the powders which the chemist's clerk had prepared. “Is she any better?” I asked. “She's just about the same.” “What does she say?” “She's too weak and sick to say anything. I don't imagine she knows or cares what is happening to her.” “Is she strong enough to get downstairs to a cab, or to ride in one afterward?”