Mrs. Mooney brought the child twice a week for treatment, but of late the disease had been gaining headway, and in spite of the Doctor's best efforts, she was in constant agony. He was treating her now in the little alcove he used as his office, and outside, with the curtains drawn, Lola was doing her best to soothe the almost frantic mother. The treatment, in spite of all the Doctor's gentleness, was painful in the extreme, and Lola was anxious to spare the poor woman the sight of her daughter's suffering, but at the sound of a stifled cry from behind the curtains, Mrs. Mooney was unable to restrain herself, and rushed toward the next room with a cry of agony. "Please," said Lola, as she gently stopped her. "They are better without you." "I'm going to her," exclaimed the mother, quite unable to withstand the thought of her child suffering alone. "You don't know what it is, Miss Lola; I've got to go." As she spoke she drew the curtain aside, and entered the alcove, and Lola would have followed had not a ring of the bell made her pause and go to the door. It was still early in the forenoon, and as Lola opened the door she fully expected to be greeted by another of the Doctor's patients, but in place of that a young man stood smiling on the threshold. "John!" she exclaimed happily, then stopped shyly as he stepped eagerly forward and put his arm around her. It was only the night before that he had told her of his love, and she was still afraid of him, but he, manlike, refused to give up an advantage already won, and drew her to him, holding her closely until she, of her own accord, raised her lips to his. "Did he read my letter?" he asked eagerly and rather nervously. Now she had him at an advantage, for however great his fear was of her father, she had none at all. "Oh, yes," she replied, smiling, "and he is perfectly furious." As she saw his face fall she would have reassured him, but just then a moan of anguish from the alcove made him turn his head inquiringly. "It is the little Mooney girl," she answered, in reply to his unspoken question. "It is some dreadful disease of the bone, but father hopes to be able to help her." "Poor little girl," said John, as he offered her a cluster of gorgeous roses that he had brought with him. Lola took the flowers with a word of thanks, as the Doctor threw open the curtains and entered with his arm about Nellie, and followed by Mrs. Mooney. "There," he exclaimed, "it is over now. You are a brave girl, Nellie. You must bring her again on Saturday, Mrs. Mooney." "You are not faint, are you, Nellie?" said Lola, alarmed at the child's paleness. "Oh, no, Miss," replied Nellie bravely, her eyes fastened with wondering admiration on the beautiful roses. "Take them," said Lola impulsively, holding them out to her, but she shrank back, afraid. "Oh, no! Why, you just got them yourself."