"Tomorrow," he answered, and added with a suspicion of a smile, "but I thought we were agreed that Doctor Denton, as a form of address, is taboo, under the circumstances." "William, then," I said, with a great weariness in my heart. "Could you manage Bill?" he asked. "I have unpleasant associations with my full name: it always reminds me of the woodshed, and my father's strong right hand." Absurdly enough, I heard my own voice saying solemnly: "Father called me William, Mother called me Will, Sister called me Willie, but the fellers called me Bill." I stopped suddenly, wondering if I were going quite mad. But there was reassuring laughter in the eyes bent upon me. "Exactly," he said, gravely. I attempted to laugh. It was a very poor effort, and ended in tears. Dr. Denton sat down on the bed and took me into his arms, pressing my head against his shoulder. I didn't care. I cried there very comfortably, for a long time. "It's all right," I heard his voice saying, coming, so it seemed, from a great distance. "It's all right. You'll feel lots better for it, Mavis." After a while, I dried my eyes and lay back against the pillows again. The intolerable burden about my heart had eased a little, in some miraculous manner. "And now," announced my husband, "Mrs. Cardigan is going to bring you some supper. After that, she will make you comfortable for the night, and you are to drink what I send you. Uncle John sends his love and the demand that you pour his coffee for him in the morning, or, if you do not feel strong enough, you are to stay in bed, he says, and he will come up and pour yours! And I shall be next door to you, if you want anything in the night. But I am sure that you are going to sleep soundly." He rose and looked down on me once more. "Good night," he said. "Sleep well." "Good night," I answered, "Dr.--B-B-Bill!" His eyes twinkled, just for a moment. "Good night," he responded, "Miss--M-M-Mavis!" He opened the door for Mrs. Cardigan and her tray, stood aside, waved to me once, and was gone. All the way down the hall I heard him singing: "You are old, Father William" in a pleasant, gay baritone. Suddenly I realized I was hungry. I awoke the following morning feeling almost happy. There was a wonderful sense of adventure in looking out of my windows over the grey city streets, in hearing the hurrying footsteps go past me. So many people! So many sorrows and joys passing beneath my window, so many eager feet going out to meet the day! I felt very small, almost insignificant, very unimportant. "It's like an angel you're looking today, Mrs. Denton!" said Mrs. Cardigan amiably, as she brought me my breakfast, with Uncle John following hard on her heels. "And it's blushing she is!" added the honest creature in amazement. Uncle John laid his hand on the shoulder of the old woman who had been nurse and housekeeper and almost-mother to him for thirty years.