“That girl shall be wholly forgotten. Plain as I am, I am the woman to whom he will come in his hour of trial. Yes, there is no doubt I have a great future before me, but in the meantime there is much to be done. A few pretty dresses, or, rather, handsome dresses, have to be bought, and, above all things else, the boy has to be cared for. Now, what am I to do with the child?” This problem occupied Nurse Ives during the remainder of the night. She had been up for several nights now, but she did not feel sleepy. She thought and thought, and towards morning it seemed to her that she had solved the difficulty. “It is the best thing I can do, and I must do it,” she thought. “What is a mother for but to help a daughter? Yes, I will do it.” Having made up her mind, she went and lay down beside the boy. The soft breath of the child, who was now fast returning to his normal state of health, mingled with hers, and she clasped the dimpled fingers of the little one. As she did this, once again that queer indescribable drawing, which she did not recognize as love, began to awaken in her heart. She crept close to the lad and took comfort in his presence. “I am so glad I saved him,” she said to herself. “When all’s said and done, I am not such a villain as Luke—Luke, the man I love, the man I would die for.” At last she fell asleep, wearied out, and awoke about ten o’clock. The boy was sitting up in bed. He was hungry, and there was a slightly fretful expression on his face. “Why do you sleep so long?” he said in a peremptory tone. “I’m not accustomed to being kept waiting for my breakfast. Why didn’t you wake up in proper time? I’m very hungry. I want my breakfast.” “I’ll get it for you at once, little one,” said the nurse. “Stay where you are; I’ll dress you afterwards. I’ll bring you your breakfast in a few minutes.” Nurse Ives rose hastily, and without even troubling to smooth her hair or change her blue velvet dress, went into the other room. Having set the kettle on to boil, she came back. “How smart you are, nurse!” said the child. “Do you like my pretty frock?” she asked. “I like it awfully. You won’t wear that ugly nurse’s dress any more, will you?” “I don’t intend to. I’m not going to be a nurse any more, little Piers.” “Aren’t you?” “No, my love.” “Do get me my breakfast—I’m so hungry.” “It’s coming, dear. I have set the egg on to boil.” Nurse Ives returned to the other room and prepared a dainty meal. She brought it to the boy on a tray and sat by his side while he ate it. “You look much better,” she said. “I’m quite well,” he answered with a laugh. “It’s wonderful how much nicer I feel in this queer, poky little scrap of a room. I was awfully ill when I was at home. I never felt anything like it. Nurse, did you ever seem to be going through the floor?” “No, dear, I can’t say that I have.”