It was late in the morning, nearly half-past ten. The young man hurried downstairs and began to ransack the pantry. He did not want to be long away from the upper room. Once, as he was stooping to search the refrigerator for butter and milk he paused in his work and thought he heard a sound at the front door, but then all seemed still, and he hurriedly put a few things on a tray and carried them upstairs. He might not be able to come down again for several hours. But when he reached the top of the stairs he heard a voice, not his patient’s, but a woman’s voice, sweet and clear and troubled: “Daddy! Oh, daddy dear! Why don’t you speak to your little girl? What is the matter? Can’t you understand me? Your face and your poor hands are so hot, they burn me. Daddy, daddy dear!” It was Starr’s voice and Michael’s heart stood still with the thrill of it, and the instant horror of it. Starr was in there in the room of death with her father. She was exposed to the terrible contagion; she, the beautiful, frail treasure of his heart! He set the tray down quickly on the hall table and went swiftly to the door. She sat on the side of the bed, her arms about her father’s unconscious form and her head buried in his neck, sobbing. For an instant Michael was frozen to the spot with horror at her dangerous situation. If she had wanted to take the disease she could not have found a more sure way of exposing herself. The next instant Michael’s senses came back and without stopping to think he sprang forward and caught her up in his arms, bearing her from the room and setting her down at the bath-room door. “Oh, Starr! what have you done!” he said, a catch in his voice like a sob, for he did not know what he was saying. Starr, frightened, struggling, sobbing, turned and looked at him. “Michael! How did you come to be here? Oh, what is the matter with my father?” “Go wash your hands and face quickly with this antiseptic soap,” he commanded, all on the alert now, and dealing out the things the doctor had given him for his own safety, “and here! rinse your mouth with this quickly, and gargle your throat! Then go and change your things as quick as you can. Your father has the smallpox and you have been in there close to him.” “The smallpox!” “Hurry!” commanded Michael, handing her the soap and turning on the hot water. Starr obeyed him because when Michael spoke in that tone people always did obey, but her frightened eyes kept seeking his face for some reassurance. “The smallpox! Oh, Michael! How dreadful! But how do you know? Has the doctor been here? And how did you happen to be here?” “I was passing last night when your father came home and he asked me to help him in. Yes, the doctor was here, and will soon come again and bring a nurse. Now hurry! You must get away from the vicinity of this room!” “But I’m not going away!” said Starr stubbornly. “I’m going to stay by my father. He’ll want me.”