In the Lee house the shutters were closed and the green shades drawn down, but the heat seemed to radiate from the painted door, on the south porch, where a small red-headed boy was trying to ring the door bell. It was a long reach for the little arms, and after raising himself so high upon his tiptoes that he nearly lost his balance, he gave up the attempt, and thumped lustily upon the panel. There was no response. He waited a moment, his small bare feet squirming about uneasily upon the hot floor, and then rapped a second time and a third. At the last knock another small red-roofed boy appeared over the top of the board fence that separated the Canary yard from the Lee home. "Try it again," advised the owner of Red Head Number Two. "I have tried it lots of agains." "But ye ain't makin' no noise. Mis' Lee might be deef. Kick 'er a little." "Ain't got no shoes on," protested the little messenger. He had just raised his hand for a final rap when the door was opened, and Mrs. Lee appeared upon the threshold. "Good-morning, Fridoline," she said pleasantly. Fridoline delivered himself of his message speedily: "Ma's got an indisposhun and says please will you come over to wunst." "What is the matter with your mother?" inquired Mrs. Lee, puzzled by the queer statement. "She's got rigours," responded Red Head Number One. "And her stummick's upset," added Red Head Number Two, across the fence. Mrs. Lee was already untying her apron. "Tell her I'll be over there right away," she said, as she left the door to explain her absence to Beatrice. Miss Billy, coming in from an errand some time afterward, stopped short at the sight of Holly Belle, who, with tear-stained cheeks and red eyes, was emptying ashes into the street. "Why what's the matter, Holly Belle?" she asked. "Ma's sick," said Holly Belle, rubbing her sleeve across her eyes. "Very sick?" "I dunno. I guess she's pretty bad. She had highstericks this morning at dawn, but she wouldn't let me call your mother until she was sure by the smell of the coffee that you'd had your breakfast. I don't know what's the matter with her. I gave her all the kinds of medicine we had in the house, and there ain't none of 'em that seemed to do her a mite of good. Your ma's here now, and she seems to be a little better. But you know I heard the death tick in the wall, and I'm scaret to death." And the tears rose again. "What's a death tick?" inquired Miss Billy, putting her arm reassuringly about the sorrowing little girl. "It's a bug in the wall that always ticks when people are goin' to--to die," sobbed Holly Belle. "Pshaw!" exclaimed Miss Billy. "You don't believe that nonsense, do you? I can't think your mother is as sick as that, anyway. Is the doctor there?" Holly Belle shook her head.