“I am sorry to say that the child is dangerously ill. I have been obliged to consult Williamson. He thinks badly of the case. All depends on the next few days, but at the present moment his life hangs in the balance.” CHAPTER VI. THE KISS. Late in the afternoon of that same day, Barbara Evershed called at 12 Ashley Mansions. “How is Sir Piers?” she asked of the servant who opened the door. “Very ill, miss.” “Is Mrs. Pelham at home?” “Yes.” The man knew Barbara, and invited her to enter. “I am quite sure Mrs. Pelham will be glad to see you, Miss; she has mentioned your name once or twice to-day.” “I will find her myself,” said Barbara; “don’t come up-stairs.” The girl ran quickly up the richly carpeted stairs, and a moment later knocked at a door. A voice said “Come in,” and she entered. Mrs. Pelham started up when Barbara appeared. “Oh, I am glad to see you,” she exclaimed. “Come over here, sit down near me. Have you heard the—the news?” The widow’s lips trembled, and her eyelids were red from weeping. “The news about Piers?” said Barbara. “Oh, I don’t believe for a moment it is so bad. Dear Mrs. Pelham, don’t give way; try, try to bear up.” For the poor woman had suddenly flung her arms round Barbara’s neck and burst into a passion of convulsive weeping. “He is dying!” she exclaimed. “He has such dreadful fainting fits. The doctors say that there is no hope. There were two of them here this morning. They say that in all probability little Piers will be dead before many days are over. Oh, Barbara, I am glad you have called. It seems a queer, wild thing to say, but I do believe you can save him.” “I! What do you mean?” said Barbara, coloring vividly. “He has been often asking for you and Dick—he loves you both so much. Do you know, Barbara, I have taken a most terrible dislike to that red-haired nurse?” “Is she a trained nurse?” “Yes, the one Dr. Tarbot insists on having. She belongs to his special staff. Sir Richard Spears, as well as Mr. Williamson, called to-day. I said something about having in a second nurse, but Dr. Tarbot said at once that it was not necessary.” “You ought to do what you please,” said Barbara. “He is a very determined man, Barbara, and I dare not oppose him. It seems to me as if I had not the management of my own child, and it is hard, bitterly hard. Oh, I cannot believe that my darling is leaving me.” “I don’t think it _can_ be true,” said Barbara. She stood upright. All the happiness which had filled her eyes left them, and her face looked grave and older than her years. “I don’t think God can mean little Piers to die,” she repeated. “I am sorry you do not like the nurse, for so much depends on nursing in cases of bad illness. May I go up to see Piers now, Mrs. Pelham?” “Oh, my darling, I wish you would. I have a feeling that you can save him.”