"I wish he would," moaned Cyril, while; Don uttered some incoherent words, showing that his mind wandered. "I'se better, mamma," piped the baby voice of Annis from another bed. "Fan and me's better. I dess Dod will make us well, 'tause we asked him to." "Yes, mother, don't fret about us," joined in Fan and Zillah patiently. She went over and kissed all three, calling them "dear good children," then passed on into the kitchen. Rupert was there trying to make a custard; Ada washing dishes. "You see you're not entirely without help in this department yet, mother," the lad said laughingly. "No," she answered with a smile that he felt was ample reward for his efforts, "how are you succeeding?" "Bravely; at least it looks nice. Please come and tell me if 'tis ready to be taken off." "It will be in a moment. Run out and get me a handful of leaves from that young peach tree, to flavor it with." He obeyed, she stirring the custard and commending Ada's industry, while he was gone. "Here they are, mother; is this enough?" he asked, coming back. "Quite," she said taking them from him; then as her hand touched his, "Rupert," she cried with anguish in her tones, "you are sick! burning up with fever!" "Heated over the stove, mother," he said, trying to laugh it off, as he lifted the kettle from the fire and poured its contents into a bowl. "No, I am not to be deceived," she answered in a choking voice, "you ought to be in bed now." He shook his head. "Somebody must keep up; several somebodies to take anything like proper care of the sick ones. And, mother, I'm as able as you are; you look dreadfully worn and ill." She was all that; she felt the chills creeping over her at that moment, and her head seemed ready to burst; her heart also. Oh, she had need of all the comfort and support of the words she had pointed out to Mildred, and of the exhortation contained therein. "My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him. He only is my rock and my salvation; he is my defense, I shall not be moved. In God is my salvation and my glory; the rock of my strength and my refuge is in God." She whispered them to herself, as with clasped hands and closed eyes, she sank heavily into a chair, half unconscious of what she was doing. Rupert sprang to her side, thinking she was about to faint, and Ada, with the same thought in her mind, set down the plate she was wiping and hurried to her also. They caught the last words. "'The rock of my strength and my refuge is in God.'" "Yes, mother, dear," sobbed the lad, putting his arms around her, "and oh, you know it's a refuge that will never fail. 'Therefore will we not fear though the earth be removed and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea.' 'Man's extremity is God's opportunity,' and He will help us through this strait somehow."