Rupert was slowly dressing himself one August morning, feeling weak and ill, when his mother's pale, sorrowful face looked in at his door. He tried to brighten up and seem strong and well as he turned to meet her, asking, "How are you, mother dear? and the sick ones? I hope you all slept." "Not much," she said, vainly striving after the accustomed cheery tone. "Annis and Fan did pretty well (oh, I am thankful that the doctor considers them out of danger now, if we can only give them the good nursing they need,) but poor Cyril is quite delirious, very, very sick, I fear, and Zillah not much better. Besides--" but here her voice broke, and for a moment she was unable to go on. "O mother, not another one down?" he cried, "You and Mildred will be killed with so much nursing." "Rupert, it is your father now," she sobbed. "He tries to makes us believe it is not much; that he'll sleep it off in an hour or so, but oh, I can see that he's very sick." "My father very sick," he echoed, aghast; "poor father! and you must lose his help with the others, and have him to nurse, too!" "That is not the worst of it. He is suffering and perhaps in danger. Celestia Ann has breakfast nearly ready. I want you to eat at once then go for the doctor (he did not come last night) and call and tell Mrs. Chetwood and Mrs. Prior what a sick household we are and that now if they can give me help in nursing, I shall be very glad and thankful." Mrs. Keith passed on into the kitchen. "Breakfast's on table," said Celestia Ann. "You just sit down and eat, Mis' Keith; fur you look ready to drop. I'll pour you out a cup o' coffee, and then run in and look after the sick till you're done." "Thank you," Mrs. Keith said, "though I have no desire for food, I will accept your offer, for I do feel faint and empty. Tell Mildred to come too, as soon as she can be spared." Rupert and Ada came in together at that moment and took their places at the table. "Only three of us this morning, 'stead of ten," Ada remarked sadly. "Well, we'll hope the others will all be back soon;" said Rupert, longing to comfort and cheer his mother. His head ached and chills were creeping down his back, but he said nothing about it, drank his coffee, forced himself to eat a little, and presently declaring himself done, put on his hat and hurried away on his errand. It was now a fortnight since Annis had been taken ill and not a drop of rain had fallen yet. The nights and mornings were chilly and damp, then the sun rose and shone all day with a fierce, burning heat that scorched everything it touched; and day by day the fever had found new victims till every physician's hands were full to overflowing. "How chilly it is!" thought Rupert, as he hastened down the path to the gate, "but it'll be hot enough presently," he added, looking up at the sky; "not a cloud to be seen, and the sun will be glaring down on us as fiercely as ever. I think if there isn't some change soon we'll all sicken and die."