Mrs. Pelham started up. “Dick shall come at once,” she cried. “That is right. I’ll call round in the morning.” Tarbot left the house. Mrs. Pelham sent a hurried messenger for Dick. He arrived within an hour. “Why, Mrs. Pelham!” he exclaimed, bursting into the room, “what sad news is this? What is the matter with Piers?” “He is ill, Dick. The doctor says it is quite serious.” “Do you mean that Tarbot says so?” “Yes, of course I mean Dr. Tarbot. He always attends little Piers when he is ill. He is his guardian, you know, Dick, or perhaps you have forgotten. I hope you didn’t mind my sending for you—the little fellow has been calling for you all day.” “I am delighted you sent for me. I’ll go up to the boy at once.” Pelham ran up-stairs. Piers with a flushed face was arguing with Nurse Ives. Nurse Ives was making few replies. She was sitting quietly by the child. Her eyes were fixed steadily on his face. Little Piers turned away from the bright glassy look in her eyes, then, as if fascinated, he looked back at her. Dick’s entry into the room made a diversion. “Hullo, Piers! what’s the matter?” said his cousin. “Oh, Cousin Dick, Cousin Dick!” said the boy, “I am glad to see you. Come and sit with me. I am glad, I am glad! You can go away now, nurse, I want to be all alone with my Cousin Dick: he’s my greatest friend. He’s my heir, you know.” “Your heir?” said the nurse. “What do you mean?” “Yes; if I were to die, Dick would be Sir Dick. Doesn’t it sound funny? Sir Dick! You would, wouldn’t you, Dick?” “Don’t talk about it, Piers; I hate the subject,” said Dick, frowning. “I wouldn’t make you angry for the world. Come and sit near me and hold my hand. Nurse, you can go out of the room. I love you, Dick; I love you.” “But what is the matter with you, Piers?” “My ticker beats too fast—it’s awfully troublesome—it beats one, two, and it stops; then it flies on, and then it seems scarcely to go at all, and I feel cold and faint. If I were to get a little worse, then you’d come into my property. You’d make an awfully nice baronet. Give me your hand, Dick. Sir Dick you’d be if I were dead.” “Go to sleep, Piers,” said Dick. CHAPTER IV. A _POST OBIT_. Pelham sat with the boy for about an hour. The nurse came in and turned off the electric light. She lit a lamp in a distant part of the room, and shaded it; then she approached the bedside on tiptoe. “How is the boy now?” asked Pelham in a whisper. “He is very ill,” said the woman. “He ought to have his medicine soon.” “But you won’t wake him for it,” said Dick. “I am sorry, but I must. The boy must have his medicine regularly; it is a heart stimulant.” “Well, let me give it to him,” said Dick. “You may if you like,” answered the nurse. “Come into the dressing-room. I will give you the glass, and you must raise his head a little and whisper to him. He’ll open his eyes and drink it, and then go off to sleep again.”