Beatrice sat down on the stairs, and grasped the railing tightly as though its dumb wood could offer her some help and support. "Worse," she said. Francis' face looked his sympathy. "_How_ is she worse?" he asked. "She's been raving for two hours. Dr. Lane has sent for Dr. Howitt. Her temperature has never been so high." "Is she in great--danger?" Beatrice nodded. "They don't say so, but----" Her voice failed her. "Is there anything I can do?" "Not a thing. The nurse is there, and mother and father don't leave her for an instant. She doesn't even need me. If there was anything to be done,--but to sit and wait is so awful!--I'm going down now to make a cup of tea for mother. She looks like a ghost." "And so do you, poor little girl." He laid his strong brown hand over the small white one on the railing. Beatrice sat still for a moment, and then, laying her head on her arm, cried her heart out. "I can't give her up," she sobbed wildly. "I can't! I can't! I never knew before what she was to me. And all this summer when she has been toiling away over her children and the weeds and the street, I have sat and criticised, and discouraged her. I have been so selfish, so small and so mean! Oh, I don't deserve to have Miss Billy, but if she lives, I'll love God all my life. I can't spare her now." Francis laid his hand softly upon the bowed golden head, and waited until the paroxysm of sobs had passed. "I can't tell you how sorry I am," he said gently. "I love Miss Billy, too, you know. But there is nothing for us to do but wait and--hope. I shan't give up yet. Come down with me and let me make you the tea. You need it as much as your mother." The night came down softly on Cherry Street. The shadows deepened and the silver crescent of the new moon appeared in the sky. Dr. Howitt arrived and went immediately to the sick room. The nurse passed through the hall with a glass of wine. Supper was announced, and was cleared away untasted. Beatrice and Theodore sat silently in the study. At nine o'clock the nurse came down the stairs again. "Mrs. Lee says for you both to go to bed. She will call you if there's the slightest change. If you can get any sleep, so much the better. And Mr. Theodore, there's a boy out in the yard." Beatrice obediently followed the nurse upstairs, and Ted went quietly out of the door. A dark figure could be dimly seen striding up and down in the faint light cast from Miss Billy's room. Theodore rounded the porch, and stopped the shadowy form in its march. It was John Thomas. "How is she?" he whispered. Ted shook his head despairingly, without a word. "You'd better go to bed," said John Thomas. "So had you," returned Ted. "I can't sleep," exclaimed the figure. Ted turned stiffly. "Neither can I," he said. His feet seemed to tangle in the wet grass as he walked toward the house again. "So long," said John Thomas hoarsely. "So long," returned Theodore.