As the nurse spoke she opened a bottle of medicine, measured out a dose carefully, and gave it to the young man. He took it into the sick-room, and, placing it on a table, bent down over the little patient. The boy was sleeping, starting now and then in his sleep, now and then muttering a word. “Dick, I’m glad you are with me—I’d like you to be Sir Dick, it would sound so pretty, so pretty.” “Wake up, Piers,” said his cousin. The moment he spoke the child opened his eyes. “It is time for your medicine, little chap.” “Oh, I hate that nasty stuff,” said the boy, shuddering and turning his head away. “But you’ll drink it for me because you are a brave little lad.” “I don’t want it, I’d rather die.” “Nonsense, Piers, folly!” “But if I died you’d be Sir Dick.” “And I should hate it,” said Dick. “You’d hate it?” said the boy. “Why, you’d be the king then.” “I’d hate it all the same. I want you to live. I love you, little chap. Now open your mouth, drink this off. Ah, that’s a good boy.” The child swallowed the medicine. “It doesn’t taste like the last,” he said; “it’s sticky and rather sweet. I’d rather have the old medicine.” “Sweet and sticky,” said Nurse Ives, who came into the room just then. “It ought not to be, for there’s nothing either sweet or sticky in it. What do you mean, child? Give me the glass, please, Mr. Pelham.” She dipped in her finger and tasted the dregs. “It is queer,” she said. “I wonder what is the matter with it. It ought not to taste like this.” She went out of the room, closing the door after her. Pelham paid no heed to her words. He was not thinking about the medicine, he was disturbed and anxious about Piers. After a time the child dropped off to sleep again, and then the young man stole to the door. “I am going away now, nurse,” he said. “I’ll look in to-morrow.” Pelham went down-stairs. The drawing-room door was open. Mrs. Pelham stood on the threshold. “Well, Dick, well?” she said eagerly. “What do you think of him?” “I think he is rather bad, if you ask me,” said Pelham. “There is a great change in him. If I were you I’d call in other advice.” “That is what Luke thinks. He said we ought to have another doctor. I am afraid he thinks badly of the case.” “I’d have in another doctor, and take him out of Tarbot’s hands,” said Dick. “What, give up Dr. Tarbot, the child’s guardian! Dick, you are talking nonsense.” “Nonsense or not, if the boy were mine I’d do it,” said Pelham. “I don’t like Tarbot. I never pretended to. I don’t like that nurse either.” “But Dr. Tarbot says she is the very best nurse on his staff.” “All the same I don’t like her. I’d have somebody else, and I’d have a new doctor. That is my advice, but of course you won’t take it.” “I couldn’t, my dear Dick. I couldn’t offend Dr. Tarbot. It would be madness. Oh, what a confused, helpless state I feel in—my darling child, my only one! You don’t think that he is in danger?”